UC-NRLF 


055 


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DAISY  MILLER 


By  HENRY  JAMES,  JR. 


NEW  YORK 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   PUBLISHERS 
FRANKLIN    SQUARE 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1878,  bi 

HARPER  £  BROTHERS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington 


P3 


' 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

|)arts. 


PART  I. 

AT  the  little  town  of  Vevay,  in  Switzer 
land,  there  is  a  particularly  comfortable  ho 
tel.  There  are,  indeed,  many  hotels;  for 
the  entertainment  of  tourists  is  the  business 
of  the  place,  which,  as  many  travellers  will 
remember,  is  seated  upon  the  edge  of  a  re 
markably  blue  lake — a  lake  that  it  behooves 
every  tourist  to  visit.  The  shore  of  the 
lake  presents  an  unbroken  array  of  estab 
lishments  of  this  order,  of  every  category, 
from  the  "  grand  hotel"  of  the  newest  fash 
ion,  with  a  chalk -white  front,  a  hundred 
balconies,  and  a  dozen  flags  flying  from  its 
roof,  to  the  little  Swiss  pension  of  an  elder 
day,  with  its  name  inscribed  in  German- 
looking  lettering  upon  a  pink  or  yellow 
wall,  and  an  awkward  summer-house  in  the 


8 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY, 


.l<  'OtfeVf  the  hotels  at 
Vevay,  however,  is  famous,  even  classical, 
being  distinguished  from  many  of  its  up 
start  neighbors  by  an  air  both  of  luxury 
and  of  maturity.  In  this  region,  in  the 
month  of  June,  American  travellers  are  ex- 
tramely  numerous ;  it  may  be  said,  indeed, 
that  Vevay  assumes  at  this  period  some  of 
ilie  characteristics  of  an  American  water 
ing-place.  There  are  sights  and  sounds 
which  evoke  a  vision,  an  echo,  of  Newport 
and  Saratoga.  There  is  a  flitting  hither 
and  thither  of  "  stylish  "  young  girls,  a  rust 
ling  of  muslin  flounces,  a  rattle  of  dance- 
music  in  the  morning  hours,  a  sound  of 
high-pitched  voices  at  all  times.  You  re 
ceive  an  impression  of  these  things  at  the 
excellent  inn  of  the  "  Trois  Courounes,"  and 
are  transported  in  fancy  to  the  Ocean  House 
or  to  Congress  Hall.  But  at  the  "Trois 
Couronnes,"it  must  be  added,  there  are  oth 
er  features  that  are  much  at  variance  with 
these  suggestions :  neat  German  waiters,  who 
look  like  secretaries  of  legation  ;  Russian 
princesses  sitting  in  the  garden  ;  little  Po 
lish  boys  walking  about,  held  by  the  hand, 
with  their  governors ;  a  view  of  the  sunny 
crest  of  the  Dent  du  Midi  and  the  pictu 
resque  towers  of  the  Castle  of  Chillon. 


DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY.  9 

1  hardly  know  whether  it  was  the  analo 
gies  or  the  differences  that  were  uppermost 
in  the  mind  of  a  young  American,  who,  two 
or  three  years  ago,  sat  in  the  garden  of  the 
"  Trois  Couronues,"  looking  about  him,  rath 
er  idly,  at  some  of  the  graceful  objects  I 
have  mentioned.  It  was  a  beautiful  sum 
mer  morning,  and  in  whatever  fashion  the 
young  American  looked  at  things,  they  must 
have  seemed  to  him  charming.  He  had 
como  from  Geneva  the  day  before  by  the  lit 
tle  steamer,  to  see  his  aunt,  wbo  was  stay 
ing  at  the  hotel — Geneva  having  been  for  a 
long  time  his  place  of  residence.  But  his 
aunt  had  a  headache — his  aunt  had  almost 
always  a  headache — and  now  she  was  shut 
up  in  her  room,  smelling  camphor,  so  that 
he  was  at  liberty  to  Avander  about.  He 
was  some  seven -and -twenty  years  of  age; 
when  his  friends  spoke  of  him,  they  usual 
ly  said  that  he  was  at  Geneva  "  studying.7' 
When  his  enemies  spoke  of  him,  they  said— 
but,  after  all,  he  bad  no  enemies;  he  was  an 
extremely  amiable  fellow,  and  universally 
liked.  What  I  should  say  is,  simply,  that 
when  certain  persons  spoke  of  him  they  af 
firmed  that  the  reason  of  his  spending  so 
much  time  at  Geneva  was  that  he  was  ex 
tremely  devoted  to  a  lady  who  lived  there 


10  DAISY  MILLER  :    A   STUDY. 

— a  foreign  lady — a  person  older  than  him 
self.  Very  few  Americans — indeed,  I  think 
none — had  ever  seen  this  lady,  about  whom 
there  were  some  singular  stories.  But  Win- 
terbourne  had  an  old  attachment  for  the  lit 
tle  metropolis  of  Calvinism  ;  he  had  been 
put  to  school  there  as  a  boy,  and  he  had 
afterward  gone  to  college  there  —  circum 
stances  which  had  led  to  his  forming  a  great 
many  youthful  friendships.  Many  of  these 
he  had  kept,  and  they  were  a  source  of  great 
satisfaction  to  him. 

After  knocking  at  his  aunt's  door,  and 
learning  that  she  was  indisposed,  he  had 
taken  a  walk  about  the  town,  and  then  he 
had  come  in  to  his  breakfast.  He  had  now 
finished  his  breakfast ;  but  he  was  drinking 
a  small  cup  of  coffee,  which  had  been  served 
to  him  on  a  little  table  in  the  garden  by 
one  of  the  waiters  who  looked  like  an  attache. 
At  last  he  finished  his  coffee  and  lit  a  cigar 
ette.  Presently  a  small  boy  came  walking 
along  the  path — an  urchin  of  nine  or  ten. 
The  child,  who  was  diminutive  for  his  years, 
had  an  aged  expression  of  countenance,  a 
pale  complexion,  and  sharp  little  features. 
He  wras  dressed  in  knickerbockers,  writh  red 
stockings,  which  displayed  his  poor  little 
spindle-shanks;  he  also  wore  a  brilliant  red 


DAISY  MILLER  :    A  STUDY.  11 

cravat.  He  carried  in  his  "baud  a  long  alpen 
stock,  the  sharp  point  of  which  he  thrust 
into  everything  that  he  approached  —  the 
flower-beds,  the  garden-benches,  the  trains 
of  the  ladies'  dresses.  In  front  of  Winter- 
bourne  he  paused,  looking  at  him.  with  a  pair 
of  bright,  penetrating  little  eyes. 

"Will  you  give  me  a  lump  of  sugar?"  he 
asked,  in  a  sharp,  hard  little  voice — a  voice 
immature,  and  yet,  somehow,  not  young. 

Winterbourne  glanced  at  the  small  table 
near  him,  on  which  his  coffee-service  rested, 
and  saw  that  several  morsels  of  sugar  re 
mained.  "Yes,  you  may  take  one,"  he  an 
swered  ;  "  but  I  don't  think  sugar  is  good 
for  little  boys." 

This  little  boy  stepped  forward  and  care 
fully  selected  three  of  the  coveted  fragments, 
two  of  which  he  buried  in  the  pocket  of 
his  knickerbockers,  depositing  the  other  as 
promptly  in  another  place.  He  poked  his  al 
penstock,  lance-fashion,  into  WTinterbourne's 
bench,  and  tried  to  crack  the  lump  of  sugar 
with  his  teeth. 

"Oh,  blazes;  it's  har-r-d!"  he  exclaimed, 
pronouncing  the  adjective  in  a  peculiar 
manner. 

Winterbourne  had  immediately  perceived 
that  he  might  have  the  honor  of  claiming 


12  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

him  as  a  fellow-countryman.  "Take  care 
you  don't  linrt  your  teeth/'  he  said,  pater 
nally. 

"  I  haven't  got  any  teeth  to  hurt.  They 
have  all  come  out.  I  have  only  got  seven 
teeth.  My  mother  counted  them  last  night, 
and  one  came  out  right  afterward.  She  said 
she'd  slap  me  if  any  more  came  out.  I  can't 
help  it.  It's  this  old  Europe.  It's  the  cli 
mate  that  makes  them  come  out.  In  Amer 
ica  they  didn't  come  out.  It's  these  hotels." 

Winterbourne  was  much  amused.  "If 
you  eat  three  lumps  of  sugar,  your  mother 
will  certainly  slap  you,"  he  said. 

"  She's  got  to  give  me  some  candy,  then," 
rejoined  his  young  interlocutor.  "I  can't 
get  any  candy  here — any  American  candy. 
American  candy's  the  best  candy." 

"And  are  American  little  boys  the  best 
little  boys  ?"  asked  Winterbourne. 

"I  don't  know.  I'm  an  American  boy," 
said  the  child. 

"  I  see  yon  are  one  of  the  best !"  laughed 
Winterbourne. 

"  Are  you  an  American  man  ?"  pursued 
this  vivacious  infant.  And  then,  on  Win- 
terboume's  affirmative  reply  —  "American 
men  are  the  best,"  he  declared. 

His  companion  thanked  him  for  the  com- 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  13 

plimeut;  and  the  child,  who  had  now  got 
astride  of  his  alpenstock,  stood  looking  about 
him,  Avhile  he  attacked  a  second  lump  of 
sugar.  Winterbourne  wondered  if  he  him 
self  had  been  like  this  in  his  infancy,  for  he 
had  been  brought  to  Europe  at  about  this 
age. 

"  Here  comes  my  sister !"  cried  the  child, 
111  a  moment.  "  She's  an  American  girl." 

Wiuterbourne  looked  along  the  path  and 
saw  a  beautiful  young  lady  advancing. 
"  American  girls  are  the  best  girls/' he  said, 
cheerfully,  to  his  young  companion. 

"My  sister  ain't  the  best!"  the  child  de 
clared.  "  She's  always  blowing  at  me." 

"  I  imagine  that  is  your  fault,  not  hers," 
said  Winterbourne.  The  young  lady  mean 
while  had  drawn  near.  She  was  dressed 
in  white  muslin,  with  a  hundred  frills  and 
flounces,  and  knots  of  pale-colored  ribbon. 
She  was  bare-headed ;  but  she  balanced  in 
her  hand  a  large  parasol,  with  a  deep  border 
of  embroidery ;  and  she  was  strikingly,  ad 
mirably  pretty.  "How  pretty  they  are!" 
thought  Wiuterbourne,  straightening  him 
self  in  his  seat,  as  if  he  were  prepared  to  rise. 

The  young  lady  paused  in  front  of  his 
bench,  near  the  parapet  of  the  garden,  which 
overlooked  the  lake.  The  little  boy  had 


14  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

now  converted  his  alpenstock  into  a  vault 
ing-pole,  by  the  aid  of  which  he  was  spring 
ing  about  in  the  gravel,  and  kicking  it  up 
not  a  little. 

"  Randolph,"  said  the  young  lady,  "  what 
are  you  doing  V 

"  I'm  going  up  the  Alps,"  replied  Randolph. 
"  This  is  the  way !"  And  he  gave  another 
little  jump,  scattering  the  pebbles  about 
Winterbourne's  ears. 

"  That's  the  way  they  come  down,"  said 
Winterbourne. 

"  He's  an  American  man !"  cried  Randolph, 
in  his  little  hard  voice. 

The  young  lady  gave  no  heed  to  this 
announcement,  but  looked  straight  at  her 
brother.  "  Well,  I  guess  you  had  better  be 
quiet,"  she  simply  observed. 

It  seemed  to  Winterbourne  that  he  had 
been  in  a  manner  presented.  He  got  up 
and  stepped  slowly  toward  the  young  girl, 
throwing  away  his  cigarette.  "  This  little 
boy  and  I  have  made  acquaintance,"  he  said, 
with  great  civility.  In  Geneva,  as  he  had 
been  perfectly  aware,  a  young  man  was  not 
at  liberty  to  speak  to  a  young  unmarried 
lady  except  under  certain  rarely  occurring 
conditions ;  but  here  at  Vevay,  what  condi 
tions  could  be  better  than  these  ? — a  pretty 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  15 

American  girl  coming  and  standing  in  front 
of  you  in  a  garden.  This  pretty  American 
girl,  however,  on  hearing  Winterbourne's  ob 
servation,  simply  glanced  at  him ;  she  then 
turned  her  head  and  looked  over  the  parapet, 
at  the  lake  and  the  opposite  mountains.  He 
wondered  whether  he  had  gone  too  far;  but 
he  decided  that  he  must  advance  farther, 
rather  than  retreat.  While  he  was  think 
ing  of  something  else  to  say,  the  young  lady 
turned  to  the  little  boy  again. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  where  you  got 
that  pole,"  she  said. 

"  I  bought  it,"  responded  Randolph. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  going  to 
take  it  to  Italy?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  to  take  it  to  Italy/'  the 
child  declared. 

The  young  girl  glanced  over  the  front  of 
her  dress,  and  smoothed  out  a  knot  or  two 
of  ribbon.  Then  she  rested  her  eyes  upon, 
the  prospect  again.  "  Well,  I  guess  you  had 
better  leave  it  somewhere,"  she  said,  after  a 
moment. 

"Are  you  going  to  Italy?"  Winterbourne 
inquired,  in  a  tone  of  great  respect. 

The  young  lady  glanced  at  him  again. 
"  Yes,  sir,"  she  replied.  And  she  said  noth 
ing  more. 


16  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

"Are  you — a — going  over  the  Sirnplon?" 
Winter-bourne  pursued,  a  little  embarrassed, 

"  I  don't  know/7  she  said.  "  I  suppose  it's 
some  mountain.  Randolph,  what  mountain 
are  we  going  over  ?" 

"  Going  where  ?"  the  child  demanded. 

"  To  Italy,"  Wiuterbourne  explained. 

"  I  don't  know,'7  said  Randolph.  "  I  don't 
want  to  go  to  Italy.  I  want  to  go  to  America." 

"Oh,  Italy  is  a  beautiful  place !';  rejoined 
the  young  man. 

"  Can  you  get  candy  there  ?"  Randolph 
loudly  inquired. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  his  sister.  "  I  guess 
you  have  had  enough  candy,  and  mother 
thinks  so  too." 

"I  haven't  had  any  for  ever  so  long — for 
a  hundred  weeks !"  cried  the  boy,  still  jump 
ing  about. 

The  young  lady  inspected  her  flounces 
and  smoothed  her  ribbons  again  ;  and  Wiu 
terbourne  presently  risked  an  observation 
upon  the  beauty  of  the  view.  He  was  ceas 
ing  to  be  embarrassed,  for  he  had  begun  to 
perceive  that  she  was  not  in  the  least  em 
barrassed  herself.  There  had  not  been  the 
slightest  alteration  in.  her  charming  com 
plexion  ;  she  was  evidently  neither  offended 
nor  fluttered.  If  she  looked  another  way 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  17 

when  lie  spoke  to  her,  and  seemed  not  par 
ticularly  to  liear  him,  this  was  simply  her 
habit,  her  manner.  Yet,  as  he  talked  a  lit 
tle  more,  and  pointed  out  some  of  the  ob 
jects  of  interest  in  the  view,  with  which  she 
appeared  quite  unacquainted,  she  gradually 
gave  him  more  of  the  benefit  of  her  glance  ; 
and  then  he  saw  that  this  glance  was  per 
fectly  direct  and  unshrinking.  It  was  not. 
however,  what  would  have  been  called  au 
immodest  glance,  for  the  young  girl's  eyes 
wTere  singularly  honest  and  fresh.  They 
were  wonderfully  pretty  eyes;  and,  indeed, 
Wiuterbourue  had  not  seen  for  a  long  time 
anything  prettier  than  his  fair  countrywom 
an's  various  features — her  complexion,  her 
nose,  her  ears,  her  teeth.  He  had  a  great 
relish  for  feminine  beauty  ;  he  was  addicted 
to  observing  and  analyzing  it;  and  as  re 
gards  this  young  lady's  face  he  made  several 
observations.  It  was  not  at  all  insipid,  but 
it  was  not  exactly  expressive;  and  though 
it  was  eminently  delicate,  Wiuterbourne 
mentally  accused  it — very  forgivingly — of  a 
want  of  finish.  He  thought  it  very  possi 
ble  that  Master  Randolph's  sister  was  a  co 
quette  ;  he  was  sure  she  had  a  spirit  of  her 
own ;  but  in  her  bright,  sweet,  superficial 
little  visage  there  was  no  mockery,  no  irony, 
2 


18  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

Before  long  it  became  obvious  that  she  was 
much  disposed  to\vard  conversation.  She 
told  him  that  they  were  going  to  Rome  for 
the  winter — she  and  her  mother  and  Ran 
dolph.  She  asked  him  if  he  was  a  "real 
American  ;"  she  shouldn't  have  taken  him 
for  one;  lie  seemed  more  like  a  German — 
this  was  said  after  a  little  hesitation — espe 
cially  when  he  spoke.  Winterbourne,  laugh 
ing,  answered  that  he  had  met  Germans  Avho 
spoke  like  Americans ;  but  that  he  had  not, 
so  far  as  he  remembered,  met  an  American 
who  spoke  like  a  German.  Then  he  asked 
her  if  she  should  not  be  more  comfortable 
in  sitting  upon  the  bench  which  he  had  just 
quitted.  She  answered  that  she  liked  stand 
ing  up  and  walking  about ;  but  she  present 
ly  sat  down.  She  told  him  she  was  from 
New  York  State — ."if  you  know  where  that 
is,"  Winterbourne  learned  more  about  her 
by  catching  hold  of  her  small,  slippery  broth 
er,  and  making  him  stand  a  few  minutes  by 
his  side. 

"Tell  me  your  name,  my  boy,"  he  said. 

"  Randolph  C.  Miller,"  said  the  boy,  sharp 
ly.  "And  I'll  tell  you  her  name;"  and  he 
levelled  his  alpenstock  at  his  sister. 

"  You  had  better  wait  till  you  are  asked !" 
said  this  young  lady,  calmly, 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  19 

"  I  should  like  very  inucli  to  know  your 
name,"  said  Winterbourne. 

"Her  name  is  Daisy  Miller!"  cried  the 
child.  "  But  that  isn't  her  real  name ;  that 
isn't  her  name  011  her  cards." 

"It's  a  pity  you  haven't  got  one  of  my 
cards!7  said  Miss  Miller. 

"  Her  real  name  is  Annie  P.  Miller/'  the 
boy  went  on. 

"Ask  him  Ms  name/'  said  his  sister,  indi 
cating  Winterbourne. 

But  on  this  point  Randolph  seemed  per 
fectly  indifferent;  he  continued  to  supply 
information  with  regard  to  his  own  family. 
"  My  father's  name  is  Ezra  B.  Miller/7  he  an 
nounced.  "My  father  ain't  iii  Europe;  my 
father's  in  a  better  place  than  Europe." 

Winterbourne  imagined  for  a  moment  that 
this  was  the  manner  in  which  the  child  had 
been  taught  to  intimate  that  Mr.  Miller  had 
been  removed  to  the  sphere  of  celestial  re 
wards.  But  Randolph  immediately  added, 
"My  father's  in  Scbenectady.  He's  got  a 
big  business.  My  father's  rich,  you  bet!" 

u  Well!"  ejaculated  Miss  Miller,  lowering 
her  parasol  and  looking  at  the  embroidered 
border.  Wiuterbourne  presently  released 
the  child,  who  departed,  dragging  his  alpen 
stock  along  the  path.  "  He  doesn't  like  Eu- 


20  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

rope,"  said  the  young  girl.  "He  wants  to 
go  back." 

"To  Schenectady,  you  mean?" 

"Yes;  lie  wants  to  go  right  home.  He 
hasn't  got  any  boys  here.  There  is  one  boy 
here, but  he  always  goes  round  with  a  teach 
er  ;  they  won't  let  him  play." 

"And  your  brother  hasn't  any  teacher?'7 
Winterbourne  inquired. 

"Mother  thought  of  getting  him  one,  to 
travel  round  with  us.  There  was  a  lady 
told  her  of  a  very  good  teacher ;  an  Ameri 
can  lady  —  perhaps  you  know  her  —  Mrs. 
Sanders.  I  think  she  came  from  Boston. 
She  told  her  of  this  teacher,  and  we  thought 
of  getting  him  to  travel  round  with  us.  But 
Eandolph  said  he  didn't  want  a  teacher  trav 
elling  round  with  us.  He  said  he  wouldn't 
have  lessons  when  he  was  in  the  cars.  And 
we  are  in  the  cars  about  half  the  time.  There 
was  an  English  lady  we  met  in  the  cars — I 
think  her  name  was  Miss  Featherstone  ;  per 
haps  you  know  her.  She  wanted  to  know 
why  I  didn't  give  Randolph  lessons — give 
him  '  instruction/  she  called  it.  I  guess  he 
could  give  me  more  instruction  than  I  could 
give  him.  He's  very  smart." 

"Yes,"  said  Wiuterbourne ;  "he  seems 
Tery  smart." 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  21 

u  Mother's  going  to  get  a  teacher  for  him 
as  soon  as  we  get  to  Italy.  Can  you  get 
good  teachers  in  Italy  ?" 

"  Very  good,  I  should  think,"  said  Win- 
terhourue. 

'•  Or  else  she's  going  to  find  some  school. 
He  ought  to  learn  some  more.  He's  only 
nine.  He's  going  to  college."  And  in  this 
way  Miss  Miller  continued  to  converse  upon 
the  affairs  of  her  family,  and  upon  other  top 
ics.  She  sat  there  with  her  extremely  pret 
ty  hands,  ornamented  with  very  brilliant 
rings,  folded  in  her  lap,  and  with  her  pret 
ty  eyes  now  resting  upon  those  of  Winter- 
bourne,  now  wandering  over  the  garden,  the 
people  who  passed  by,  and  the  beautiful 
view.  She  talked  to  Winterbourne  as  if  she 
had  known  him  a  long  time.  He  found  it 
very  pleasant.  It  was  many  years  since  he 
had  heard  a  young  girl  talk  so  much.  It 
might  have  been  said  of  this  unknown  young 
lady,  who  had  come  and  sat  down  beside 
him  upon  a  bench,  that  she  chattered.  She, 
was  very  quiet ;  she  sat  in  a  charming,  tran 
quil  attitude,  but  her  lips  and  her  eyes  were 
constantly  moving.  She  had  a  soft,  slender, 
agreeable  voice,  and  her  tone  was  decidedly 
sociable.  She  gave  Winterbourne  a  history 
of  her  movements  and  intentions,  and  those 


22  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

of  her  mother  and  brother,  in  Europe,  and 
enumerated,  in  particular,  the  various  hotels 
at  which  they  had  stopped.  "  That  English 
lady  in  the  cars,"  she  said — "Miss  Feather- 
stone — asked  me  if  we  didn't  all  live  in  ho 
tels  in  America.  I  told  her  I  had  never  been 
in  so  many  hotels  in  my  life  as  since  I  came 
to  Europe.  I  have  never  seen  so  many — it's 
nothing  but  hotels."  But  Miss  Miller  did 
not  make  this  remark  with  a  querulous  ac 
cent  ;  she  appeared  to  be  in  the  best  humor 
with  everything.  She  declared  that  the 
hotels  were  very  good,  when  once  you  got 
used  to  their  ways,  and  that  Europe  was 
perfectly  sweet.  She  was  not  disappointed 
— not  a  bit.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she 
had  heard  so  much  aboui;  it  before.  She 
had  ever  so  many  intimate  friends  that  had 
been  there  ever  so  many  times.  And  then 
she  had  had  ever  so  many  dresses  and  things 
from  Paris.  Whenever  she  put  on  a  Paris 
dress  she  felt  as  if  she  were  in  Europe. 

"  It  was  a  kind  of  a  wishiug-cap,"  said 
Winterbourne. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Miller,  without  examin 
ing  this  analogy  ;  "  it  always  made  me  wish 
I  was  here.  But  I  needn't  have  done  that 
for  dresses.  I  am  sure  they  send  all  the  pret 
ty  ones  to  America ;  you  see  the  most  fright- 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  23 

fill  things  here.  The  only  tiling  I  don't 
like/7  she  proceeded,  "  is  the  society.  There 
isn't  any  society  ;  or,  if  there  is,  I  don't  know 
where  it  keeps  itself.  Do  you?  I  suppose 
there  is  some  society  somewhere,  but  I 
haven't  seen  anything  of  it.  I'm  very  fond 
of  society,  and  I  have  always  had  a  great 
deal  of  it.  I  don't  mean  only  in  Schenec- 
tady,  but  in  New  York.  I  used  to  go  to  New 
York  every  winter.  In  New  York  I  had  lots 
of  society.  Last  winter  I  had  seventeen 
dinners  given  me ;  and  three  of  them  were 
by  gentlemen,"  added  Daisy  Miller.  "  I 
have  more  friends  in  New  York  than  in 
Schenectady — more  gentleman  friends;  and 
more  young  lady  friends  too,"  she  resumed 
in  a  moment.  She  paused  again  for  an  in 
stant ;  she  was  looking  at  Winterbourne 
with  all  her  prettiness  in  her  lively  eyes  and 
in  her  light,  slightly  monotonous  smile.  "  I 
have  always  had,"  she  said,  "  a  great  deal 
of  gentlemen's  society." 

Poor  Winterbourne  was  amused,  perplex 
ed,  and  decidedly  charmed.  He  had  never 
yet  heard  a  young  girl  express  herself  in 
just  this  fashion;  never,  at  least,  save  in 
cases  where  to  say^such  things  seemed  a 
kind  of  demonstrative  evidence  of  a  certain 
laxity  of  deportment.  And  yet  was  he  to 


24  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

accuse  Miss  Daisy  Miller  of  actual  or  poten 
tial  inconduite,  as  they  said  at  Geneva?  He 
felt  that  he  had  lived  at  Geneva  so  long 
that  he  had  lost  a  good  deal ;  he  had  become 
dishabituated  to  the  American  tone.  Never, 
indeed,  since  he  had  grown  old  enough  to 
appreciate  things,  had  he  encountered  a 
young  American  girl  of  so  pronounced  a  type 
as  this.  Certainly  she  was  very  charming,, 
but  how  deucedly  sociable !  Was  she  simply 
a  pretty  girl  from  New  York  State  ?  were 
they  all  like  that,  the  pretty  girls  who  had 
a  good  deal  of  gentlemen's  society  ?  Or  was 
she  also  a  designing,  an  audacious,  an  un 
scrupulous  young  person  ?  Winterbourne 
had  lost  his  instinct  in  this  matter,  and  his 
reason  could  not  help  him.  Miss  Daisy 
Miller  looked  extremely  innocent.  Some 
people  had  told  him  that,  after  all,  American 
girls  were  exceed ingly  innocent ;  and  others 
had  told  him  that,  after  all,  they  were  not. 
He  was  inclined  to  think  Miss  Daisy  Miller 
was  a  flirt  —  a  pretty  American  flirt.  He 
had  never,  as  yet,  had  any  relations  with 
young  ladies  of  this  category.  He  had 
known,  here  in  Europe,  two  or  three  women 
• — persons  older  than  M;ss  Daisy  Miller,  and 
provided,  for  respectability's  sake,  with  hus 
bands — who  were  great  coquettes — danger- 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  25 

OTIS,  terrible  women,  with  whom  one's  rela 
tions  were  liable  to  take  a  serious  turn.  But 
this  young  girl  was  not  a  coquette  in  that 
sense ;  she  was  very  unsophisticated ;  she 
was  only  a  pretty  American  flirt.  Winter- 
bourne  was  almost  grateful  for  Laving  found 
the  formula  that  applied  to  Miss  Daisy  Mil 
ler.  He  leaned  back  in  his  seat ;  he  re 
marked  to  himself  that  she  had  the  most 
charming  nose  he  had  ever  seen  ;  he  won 
dered  what  were  the  regular  conditions  and 
limitations  of  one's  intercourse  with  a  pret 
ty  American  flirt.  It  presently  became  ap 
parent  that  he  was  on  the  way  to  learn. 

"  Have  you  been  to  that  old  castle  ?"  asked 
the  young  girl,  pointing  with  her  parasol  to 
the  far-gleaming  walls  of  the  Chateau  de 
Chillon. 

"Yes,  formerty,  more  than  once/7  said 
Winterbourue.  "  You  too,  I  suppose,  have 
seen  it  ?" 

"No;  we  haven't  been  there.  I  want  to 
go  there  dreadfully.  Of  course  I  mean  to 
go  there.  I  wouldn't  go  away  from  here 
without  having  seen  that  old  castle." 

"It's  a  very  pretty  excursion,"  said  Win- 
terbourne,  "  and  very  easy  to  make.  You 
can  drive,  you  know,  or  you  can  go  by  the 
little  steamer." 


26  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

"Yon  can  go  in  the  cars,"  said  Miss  Miller. 

"  Yes ;  yon  can  go  in  the  cars/'  Winter- 
bourne  assented. 

"Onr  courier  says  they  take  you  right 
np  to  the  castle,"  the  young  girl  continued. 
"  We  were  going  last  week ;  but  my  mother 
gave  out.  She  suffers  dreadfully  from  dys 
pepsia.  She  said  she  couldn't  go.  Randolph 
wouldn't  go  either ;  he  says  he  doesn't  think 
much  of  old  castles.  But  I  guess  we'll  go 
this  week,  if  we  can  get  Randolph." 

"  Your  brother  is  not  interested  in  ancient 
monuments?"  Winterbourne  inquired,  smil 
ing. 

"He  says  he  don't  care  much  about  old 
castles.  He's  only  nine.  He  wants  to  stay 
at  the  hotel.  Mother's  afraid  to  leave  him 
alone,  and  the  courier  won't  stay  with  him; 
so  we  haven't  been  to  many  places.  But 
it  wTill  be  too  bad  if  we  don't  go  up  there." 
And  Miss  Miller  pointed  again  at  the  Chateau 
de  Chillon. 

"I  should  think  it  might  be  arranged," 
said  Winterbourne.  "  Couldn't  yon  get  some 
one  to  stay  for  the  afternoon  with  Ran 
dolph  ?" 

Miss  Miller  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and 
then,  very  placidly,  "  I  wish  you  would  stay 
with  him  !"  she  said. 


DAISY   MILLEli:     A   STUDY.  *J7 

Wintorbonnie* hesitated  a  moment.  "I 
should  mucli  rather  go  to  Chillon  with  you." 

"With  me?"  asked  the  young  girl,  with 
the  same  placidity. 

She  didn't  rise,  blushing,  as  a  young  girl 
at  Geneva  would  have  done ;  and  yet  Win- 
terbourne,  conscious  that  he  had  been  very 
bold,  thought  it  possible  she  was  offended. 
"  With  your  mother,'7  he  answered,  very  re 
spectfully. 

But  it  seemed  that  both  his  audacity  and 
his  respect  were  lost  upon  Miss  Daisy  Miller. 
"I  guess  my  mother  won't  go,  after  all/7  she 
said.  "She  don't  like  to  ride  round  in  the 
afternoon.  But  did  you  really  mean  what 
you  said  just  now — that  you  would  like  to 
go  up  there  ?" 

"  Most  earnestly,"  Winterbourne  declared. 

"  Then  we  may  arrange  it.  If  mother 
will  stay  with  Kaudolph,  I  guess  Eugenio 
will." 

"Eugenio?"  the  young  man  inquired. 

"Eugeuio's  our  courier.  He  doesn't  like 
to  stay  with  Randolph;  he's  the  most  fas 
tidious  man  I  ever  saw.  But  he's  a  splen 
did  courier.  I  guess  he'll  stay  at  home  with 
Randolph  if  mother  does,  and  then  we  can 
go  to  the  castle.7' 

Winterbourue  reflected  for  an  instant  as 


28  DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY. 

lucidly  as  possible — "  we"  could  only  mean 
Miss  Daisy  Miller  and  himself.  This  pro 
gramme  seemed  almost  too  agreeable  for 
credence;  he  felt  as  if  he  ought  to  kiss 
the  young  lady's  hand.  Possibly  he  would 
have  done  so,  and  quite  spoiled  the  proj 
ect  ;  but  at  this  moment  another  person,  pre 
sumably  Engenio,  appeared.  A  tall,  hand 
some  man,  with  superb  whiskers,  wearing 
a  velvet  morning  -  coat  and  a  brilliant 
watch-chain,  approached  Miss  Miller,  look 
ing  sharply  at  her  companion.  "  Oh,  Euge- 
nio!"  said  Miss  Miller,  with  the  friendliest 
accent. 

Engenio  had  looked  at  Winterbourue  from 
head  to  foot ;  he  now  bowed  gravely  to  the 
young  lady.  "I  have  the  honor  to  inform 
mademoiselle  that  luncheon  is  upon  the  ta 
ble." 

Miss  Miller  slowly  rose.  "  See  here,  En- 
geiiio!"  she  said;  "I'm  going  to  that  old 
castle,  anyway." 

"To  the  Chateau  de  Chillon,  mademoi 
selle?"  the  courier  inquired.  "Mademoi 
selle  has  made  arrangements  ?"  he  added,  in 
a  tone  which  struck  Winterbourne  as  very 
impertinent. 

Eugenie's  tone  apparently  threw,  even  to 
Miss  Millers  own  apprehension,  a  slightly 


DAISY  FILLER:  A  STUDY.  29 

ironical  light  upon  the  young  girl's  situa 
tion.  She  turned  to  Winterbourne,  blush 
ing  a  little  —  a  very  little.  i:  You  won't 
hack  out  ?"  she  said. 

"  I  shall  not  he  happy  till  \ve  go!"  he  pro 
tested. 

"  And  you  are  staying  in  this  hotel  ?"  she 
went  on.  "And  you  are  really  an  Ameri 
can  ?" 

The  courier  stood  looking  at  Winter- 
bourne  offensively.  The  young  man,  at  least, 
thought  his  manner  of  looking  an  offence  to 
Miss  Miller  ;  it  conveyed  an  imputation  that 
she  "picked  up'7  acquaintances.  "I  shall 
have  the  honor  of  presenting  to  you  a  per 
son  who  will  tell  you  all  about  me/7  he  said, 
smiling,  and  referring  to  his  aunt. 

"  Oh,  well,  we'll  go  some  day,"  said  Miss 
Miller.  And  she  gave  him  a  smile  and  turn 
ed  away.  She  put  up  her  parasol  and  walk 
ed  back  to  the  inn  beside  Eugenio.  Win 
terbourne  stood  looking  after  her ;  and  as 
she  moved  away,  drawing  her  muslin  furbe 
lows  over  the  gravel,  said  to  himself  that 
she  had  the  tournure  of  a  princess. 

He  had,  however,  engaged  to  do  more 
than  proved  feasible,  in  promising  to  pre 
sent  his  aunt,  Mrs.  Costello,  to  Miss  Daisy 
Miller.  As  soon  as  the  former  lady  had  got 


30  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

better  of  her  headache  he  waited  upon  her 
in  her  apartment ;  and,  after  the  proper  in 
quiries  in  regard  to  ber  health,  he  asked  her 
if  she  had  observed  in  the  hotel  an  Ameri 
can  family — a  mamma,  a  daughter,  and  a  lit 
tle  boy. 

"And  a  courier  ?"  said  Mrs.  Costello.  "  Oh 
yes,  I  have  observed  them.  Seen  them — 
heard  them  —  and  kept  out  of  their  way." 
Mrs.  Costello  was  a  widow  with  a  fortune; 
a  person  of  much  distinction,  who  frequent 
ly  intimated  that,  if  she  were  not  so  dread 
fully  liable  to  sick -headaches,  she  would 
probably  have  left  a  deeper  impress  upon 
her  time.  She  had  a  long,  pale  face,  a  high 
nose,  and  a  great  deal  of  very  striking  white 
hair,  which  she  wore  in  large  puffs  and  rou 
leaux  over  the  top  of  her  head.  She  had 
two  sons  married  in  New  York,  and  another 
who  was  now  in  Europe.  This  young  man 
was  amusing  himself  at  Hombourg ;  and, 
though  he  was  011  his  travels,  was  rarely 
perceived  to  visit  any  particular  city  at  the 
moment  selected  by  his  mother  for  her  own 
appearance  there.  Her  nephew,  who  had 
come  up  to  Vevay  expressly  to  see  her,  was 
therefore  more  attentive  than  those  who, 
as  she  said,  were  nearer  to  her.  He  had  im 
bibed  at  Geneva  tlio  idea  that  one  must  al- 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  31 

ways  be  attentive  to  one's  aunt.  Mrs.  Cos- 
tello  had  not  seen  him  for  many  years,  and 
she  was  greatly  pleased  with  him,  manifest 
ing  her  approbation  by  initiating  him  into 
many  of  the  secrets  of  that  social  sway 
which,  as  she  gave  him  to  understand,  she 
exerted  in  the  American  capital.  She  ad 
mitted  that  she  was  very  exclusive ;  but,  if 
he  were  acquainted  with  New  York,  he  would 
see  that  one  had  to  be.  And  her  picture  of 
the  minutely  hierarchical  constitution  of 
the  society  of  that  city,  which  she  present 
ed  to  him  in  many  different  lights,  was,  to 
Winterbourne's  imagination,  almost  oppres 
sively  striking. 

He  immediately  perceived,  from  her  tone, 
that  Miss  Daisy  Miller's  place  in  the  social 
scale  was  low.  "  I  am  afraid  you  don't  ap 
prove  of  them,"  he  said. 

"They  are  very  common,"  Mrs.  Costello 
declared.  "  They  are  the  sort  of  Americans 
that  one  does  one's  duty  by  not  —  not  ac 
cepting." 

"Ah,  you  don't  accept  them?"  said  the 
young  man. 

"  I  can't,  my  dear  Frederick.  I  would  if 
I  could,  but  I  can't." 

"  The  young  girl  is   very   pretty/' 
Winterbourne,  in  a  moment. 


32  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

"  Of  course  she's  pretty.  Bat  sbe  is  very 
common." 

"I  see  what  you  mean,  of  course/' said 
Winterbonme,  after  another  pause. 

"  She  has  that  charming  look  that  they 
all  have,"  his  aunt  resumed.  "  I  can't  think 
where  they  pick  it  up ;  aud  she  dresses  in 
perfection  —  no,  you  don't  know  how  well 
she  dresses.  I  can't  think  where  they  get 
their  taste." 

"  But,  my  dear  aunt,  she  is  not,  after  all, 
a  Camanche  savage." 

"  She  is  a  young  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Costello, 
"who  has  an  intimacy  with  her  mamma's 
courier." 

"An  intimacy  with  the  courier?"  the 
young  man  demanded. 

"Oh,  the  mother  is  just  as  bad!  They 
treat  the  courier  like  a  familiar  friend — like 
a  gentleman.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  dines 
with  them.  Very  likely  they  have  never 
seen  a  man  with  such  good  manners,  such 
fine  clothes,  so  like  a  gentleman.  He  prob 
ably  corresponds  to  the  young  lady's  idea  of 
a  count.  He  sits  with  them  in  the  garden 
in  the  evening.  I  think  he  smokes." 

Winterbourne  listened  with  interest  to 
these  disclosures;  they  helped  him  to  make 
up  his  mind  about  Miss  Daisy.  Evidently 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

she  was  rather  wild.  "Well/' be  said,  "I 
aui  not  a  courier,  and  yet  she  was  very 
charming  to  me." 

"  You  had  better  have  said  at  first,"  said 
Mrs.  Costello,  with  dignity,  "  that  you  had 
made  her  acquaintance." 

"We  simply  met  in  the  garden,  and  we 
talked  a  bit." 

"  Tout  bonnemcnt!  And  pray  what  did 
you  say  ?" 

"I  said  I  should  take  the  liberty  of  in 
troducing  her  to  my  admirable  aunt." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  It  was  to  guarantee  my  respectability," 
said  Winterbourne. 

"  And  pray  who  is  to  guarantee  hers  ?" 

"Ah,  you  are  cruel!"  said  the  young  man. 
"  She's  a  very  nice  young  girl." 

"You  don't  say  that  as  if  you  believed 
it,"  Mrs.  Costello  observed. 

"She  is  completely  uncultivated,"  Win- 
terbourue  went  on.  "  But  she  is  wonderful 
ly  pretty,  and,  in  short,  she  is  very  nice.  To 
prove  that  I  believe  it,  I  am  going  to  take 
her  to  the  Chateau  de  Chillon." 

"You  two  are  going  off  there  together? 

I  should  say  it  proved  just  the  contrary. 

How  long  had  you  known  her,  may  I  ask, 

when  this  interesting  project  wras  formed  ? 

3 


34  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

You  haven't  been  twenty-four  hours  in  the 
house." 

"  I  had  known  her  half  an  hour !"  said 
Winterbourne,  smiling. 

"  Dear  me  !"  cried  Mrs.  Costello.  "  What 
a  dreadful  girl!" 

Her  nephew  was  silent  for  some  moments. 
"  You  really  think,  then,"  he  began,  earnest 
ly,  and  with  a  desire  for  trustworthy  infor 
mation — "  you  really  think  that — "  But  he 
paused  again. 

"  Think  what,  sir  ?"  said  his  aunt. 

"  That  she  is  the  sort  of  young  lady  who  ex 
pects  a*  man,  sooner  or  later,  to  carry  her  off?" 

"  I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  such  young 
ladies  expect  a  man  to  do.  But  I  really 
think  that  you  had  better  not  meddle  with 
little  American  girls  that  are  uncultivated, 
as  you  call  them.  You  have  lived  too  long 
out  of  the  country.  You  will  be  sure  to 
make  some  great  mistake.  You  are  too  in 
nocent." 

"  My  dear  aunt,  I  am  not  so  innocent," 
said  Winterbourne,  smiling  and  curling  his 
mustache. 

"  You  are  too  guilty,  then !" 

Winterbourne  continued  to  curl  his  mus 
tache,  meditatively.  "You  won't  let  the 
poor  girl  know  you  then  ?"  he  asked  at  last. 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  Jo 

"Is  it  literally  true  that  she  is  going  to 
the  Chateau  de  Chillon  with  you  P 

"  I  think  that  she  fully  iuteuds  it." 

"Then,  my  dear  Frederick,"  said  Mrs. 
Costello,  "I  must  decline  the  honor  of  her 
acquaintance.  I  am  an  old  woman,  but  I 
am  not  too  old,  thank  Heaven,  to  be  shock 
ed!'7 

"  But  don't  they  all  do  these  things — the 
young  girls  in  America?"  Winterbourne  in 
quired. 

Mrs.  Costello  stared  a  moment.  "  I  should 
like  to  see  my  grand-daughters  do  them!" 
she  declared,  grimly. 

This  seemed  to  throw  some  light  upon  the 
matter,  for  Wiuterbourne  remembered  to 
have  heard  that  his  pretty  cousins  in  New 
York  were  "  tremendous  flirts."  If,  there 
fore,  Miss  Daisy  Miller  exceeded  the  liberal 
margin  allowed  to  these  young  ladies,  it  was 
probable  that  anything  might  be  expected 
of  her.  Winterbourne  was  impatient  to  see 
her  again,  and  he  was  vexed  with  himself 
that,  by  instinct,  he  should  not  appreciate 
her  justly. 

Though  he  was  impatient  to  see  her,  he 
hardly  knew  what  he  should  say  to  her 
about  his  aunt's  refusal  to  become  acquaint 
ed  with  her;  but  he  discovered,  promptly 


30  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

enough,  that  with  Miss  Daisy  Miller  there 
was  110  great  need  of  walking  on  tiptoe. 
He  found  her  that  evening  in  the  garden, 
wandering  about  in  the  warm  starlight  like 
an  indolent  sylph,  and  swinging  to  and  fro 
the  largest  fan  he  had  ever  beheld.  It  was 
ten  o'clock.  He  had  dined  with  his  aunt, 
had  been  sitting  with  her  since  dinner,  and 
had  just  taken  leave  of  her  till  the  morrow. 
Miss  Daisy  Miller  seemed  very  glad  to  see 
him ;  she  declared  it  was  the  longest  even 
ing  she  had  ever  passed. 

"  Have  you  been  all  alone  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  have  been  walking  round  with  moth 
er.  But  mother  gets  tired  walking  round/7 
she  answered. 

"  Has  she  gone  to  bed  ?" 

"No;  she  doesn't  like  to  go  to  bed,"  said 
the  young  girl.  "She  doesn't  sleep  —  not 
three  hours.  She  says  she  doesn't  know 
how  she  lives.  She's  dreadfully  nervous. 
I  guess  she  sleeps  more  than  she  thinks. 
She's  gone  somewhere  after  Randolph ;  she 
wants  to  try  to  get  him  to  go  to  bed.  He 
doesn't  like  to  go  to  bed." 

"  Let  us  hope  she  will  persuade  him,*'  ob 
served  Winterbourne. 

"She  will  talk  to  him  all  she  can  ;  but 
he  doesn't  like  her  to  talk  to  him/'  said  Miss 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  37 

Daisy,  opening  her  fan.  "  She's  going  to 
try  to  get  Engenio  to  talk  to  him.  But  he 
isn't  afraid  of  Engeuio.  Eugenie's  a  splen 
did  courier,  but  he  can't  make  much  impres 
sion  on  Randolph!  I  don't  believe  he'll  go 
to  bed  before  eleven."  It  appeared  that 
Randolph's  vigil  was  in  fact  triumphantly 
prolonged,  for  Winterbourne  strolled  about 
with  the  young  girl  for  some  time  without 
meeting  her  mother.  "  I  have  been  looking 
round  for  that  lady  you  want  to  introduce 
me  to,"  his  companion  resumed.  "  She's 
your  aunt."  Then,  on  Winterbourue's  ad 
mitting  the  fact,  and  expressing  some  curi 
osity  as  to  how  she  had  learned  it,  she  said 
she  had  heard  all  about  Mrs.  Costello  from 
the  chamber-maid.  She  was  very  quiet,  and 
very  comme  ilfaut;  she  wore  white  puffs; 
she  spoke  to  no  one,  and  she  never  dined  at 
the  .table  d'hote.  Every  two  days  she  had  a 
headache.  "I  think  that's  a  lovely  descrip 
tion,  headache  and  all!"  said  Miss  Daisy, 
chattering  along  in  her  thin,  gay  voice.  "  I 
want  to  know  her  ever  so  much.  I  know 
just  what  your  aunt  would  be  ;  I  know  I 
should  like  her.  Sl^e  would  be  very  exclu 
sive.  I  like  a  lady  to  be  exclusive;  I'm 
dying  to  be  exclusive  myself.  Well,  we  arc 
exclusive,  mother  and  I.  We  don't  speak 


38  DAISY  MILLER  :    A  STUDY. 

to  every  one — or  they  don't  speak  to  ns.  I 
suppose  it's  about  the  same  thing.  Anyway. 
I  shall  be  ever  so  glad  to  know  your  aunt." 

Winterbourne  was  embarrassed.  "She 
would  be  most  happy/7  he  said  ;  "  but  I  am 
afraid  those  headaches  will  interfere." 

The  young  girl  looked  at  him  through 
the  dusk.  "  But  I  suppose  she  doesn't  have 
a  headache  every  day,"  she  said,  sympathet 
ically. 

Winterbourne  was  silent  a  moment. 
"She  tells  me  she  does,"  he  answered  at 
last,  not  knowing  what  to  say. 

Miss  Daisy  Miller  stopped,  and  stood  look 
ing  at  him.  Her  prettiuess  was  still  visible 
in  the  darkness ;  she  was  opening  and  clos 
ing  her  enormous  fan.  "  She  doesn't  want 
to  know  me!"  she  said,  suddenly.  "Why 
don't  yon  say  so  ?  You  needn't  be  afraid. 
I'm  not  afraid!"  And  she  gave  a  little 
laugh. 

Winterbourne  fancied  there  was  a  tremor 
in  her  voice ;  he  was  touched,  shocked,  mor 
tified  by  it.  "  My  dear  young  lady,"  he  pro 
tested,  "  she  knows  no  one.  It's  her  wretch 
ed  health." 

The  young  girl  walked  on  a  few  steps, 
laughing  still.  "You  needn't  be  afraid," 
she  repeated.  "Why  should  she  want  to 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  39 

know  me  ?"  Then  she  paused  again  ;  she 
was  close  to  the  parapet  «f  the  garden,  and 
in  front  of  her  was  the  starlit  lake.  There 
was  a  vague  sheen  upon  its  surface,  and  in 
the  distance  were  dimly -seen  mountain 
forms.  Daisy  Miller  looked  out  upon  the 
mysterious  prospect,  and  then  she  gave  an 
other  little  laugh.  "  Gracious!  she  is  ex 
clusive!"  she  said.  Winterbourne  wonder 
ed  whether  she  was  seriously  wounded,  and 
for  a  moment  almost  wished  that  her  sense 
of  injury  might  be  such  as  to  make  it  be 
coming  in  him  to  attempt  to  reassure  and 
comfort  her.  lie  had  a  pleasant  sense  that 
she  would  be  very  approachable  for  consol 
atory  purposes.  He  felt  then,  for  the  in 
stant,  quite  ready  to  sacrifice  his  aunt,  con 
versationally  ;  to  admit  that  she  was  a  proud, 
rude  woman,  and  to  declare  that  they  needn't 
mind  her.  But  before  he  had  time  to  com 
mit  himself  to  this  perilous  mixture  of  gal 
lantry  and  impiety,  the  young  lady,  resum 
ing  her  walk,  gave  an  exclamation  in  quite 
another  tone.  "Well,  here's  mother!  I 
guess  she  hasn't  got  Randolph  to  go  to 
bed."  The  figure  of  a  lady  appeared,  at  a 
distance,  very  indistinct  in  the  darkness, 
and  advancing  with  a  slow  and  wavering 
movement.  Suddenly  it  seemed  to  pause. 


40  DAISV  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

"Are  you  sure  it  is  your  mother?  Can 
you  distinguish  her  in  this  thick  dusk  ?" 
Wiuterbourne  asked. 

"Well!"  cried  Miss  Daisy  Miller,  with  a 
laugh ;  "  I  guess  I  know  my  own  mother. 
And  when  she  has  got  on  my  shawl,  too! 
She  is  always  wearing  my  things." 

The  lady  in  question,  ceasing  to  advance, 
hovered  vaguely  about  the  spot  at  which 
she  had  checked  her  steps. 

"I  am  afraid  your  mother  doesn't  see 
you,"  said  Wiuterbourne.  "  Or  perhaps," 
he  added,  thinking,  with  Miss  Miller,  the 
joke  permissible — "  perhaps  she  feels  guilty 
about  your  shawl." 

"  Oh,  it's  a  fearful  old  thing!"  the  young 
girl  replied,  serenely.  "  I  told  her  she 
could  wear  it.  She  won't  come  here,  be 
cause  she  sees  you." 

"Ah,  then,"  said  Winterbourne,  " I  had 
better  leave  you." 

"  Oh  no  ;  come  on !"  urged  Miss  Daisy 
Miller. 

"  I'm  afraid  your  mother  doesn't  approve 
of  my  walking  with  you." 

Miss  Miller  gave  him  a  serious  glance. 
"  It  isn't  for  me  ;  it's  for  you — that  is,  it's 
for  her.  Well,  I  don't  know  who  it's  for  I 
But  mother  doesn't  like  any  of  my  gentle- 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  41 

men  friends.  She's  right  down  timid.  She 
always  makes  a  fuss  if  I  introduce  a  gentle 
man.  But  I  do  introduce  them — almost  al 
ways.  If  I  didn't  introduce  my  gentlemen 
friends  to  mother,"  the  young  girl  added,  in. 
her  little  soft,  flat  monotone,  "  I  shouldn't 
think  I  was  natural." 

"  To  introduce  me,"  said  Winterhourne, 
"you  must  know  my  name."  And  he  pro 
ceeded  to  pronounce  it. 

"  Oh  dear,  I  can't  say  all  that !"  said  his 
companion,  with  a  laugh.  But  by  this  time 
they  had  come  up  to  Mrs.  Miller,  who,  as 
they  drew  near,  walked  to  the  parapet  of 
the  garden  and  leaned  upon  it,  looking  in 
tently  at  the  lake,  and  turning  her  back  to 
them.  "Mother!"  said  the  young  girl,  in  a 
tone  of  decision.  Upon  this  the  elder  lady 
turned  round.  "Mr.  Winterbourue,"  said 
Miss  Daisy  Miller,  introducing  the  young 
man  very  frankly  and  prettily.  "Com 
mon,"  she  was,  as  Mrs.  Costello  had  pro 
nounced  her ;  yet  it  was  a  wonder  to  Win- 
terbourne  that,  with  her  commonness,  she 
had  a  singularly  delicate  grace. 

Her  mother  was  a  small,  spare,  light  per 
son,  with  a  wandering  eye,  a  very  exiguous 
nose,  and  a  large  forehead,  decorated  with 

a   certain   amount   of  thin,  much  -  frizzled 

c 


42  DAISY   MILLER  :    A   STUDY. 

hair.  Like  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Miller  was 
dressed  with  extreme  elegance  ;  she  had  enor 
mous  diamonds  in  her  ears.  So  far  as  Win- 
terbonrne  could  observe,  she  gave  him  no 
greeting — she  certainly  was  not  looking  at 
him.  Daisy  was  near  her,  pulling  her  shawl 
straight.  "What  are  you  doing,  poking 
round  here  ?"  this  young  lady  inquired,  but 
by  no  means  with  that  harshness  of  accent 
which  her  choice  of  words  may  imply. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  her  mother,  turning 
toward  the  lake  again. 

"I  shouldn't  think  you'd  want  that  shawl!" 
Daisy  exclaimed. 

"Well,  I  do!"  her  mother  answered,  with 
a  little  laugh. 

"Did  you  get  Randolph  to  go  to  bed?" 
asked  the  young  girl. 

"No;  I  couldn't  induce  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Miller,  very  gently.  "  He  wants  to  talk  to 
the  waiter.  He  likes  to  talk  to  that  wait 
er." 

"I  was  telling  Mr.  Winterbourne,"  the 
young  girl  went  on ;  and  to  the  young 
man's  ear  her  tone  might  have  indicated 
that  she  had  been  uttering  his  name  all  her 
life. 

"Oh  yes!"  said  Winterbourne  ;  "I  have 
the  pleasure  of  knowing  your  son." 


DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY.  43 

Randolph's  mamma  was  silent ;  slie  turned 
her  attention  to  the  lake.  But  at  last  she 
spoke.  "  Well,  I  don't  see  how  he  lives  !" 

"  Anyhow,  it  isn't  so  bad  as  it  was  at  Do 
ver,"  said  Daisy  Miller. 

"  And  what  occurred  at  Dover?"  Winter- 
bourne  asked. 

"  He  wouldn't  go  to  bed  at  all.  I  gnesa 
he  sat  up  all  night  in  the  public  parlor.  He 
wasn't  in  bed  at  twelve  o'clock  :  I  know 
that." 

"  It  was  half-past  twelve/'  declared  Mrs. 
Miller,  with  mild  emphasis. 

"Does  he  sleep  much  during  the  day?" 
Winterbonrne  demanded. 

"I  guess  he  doesn't  sleep  much,"  Daisy 
rejoined. 

"  I  wish  he  would  !"  said  her  mother.  "  It 
seems  as  if  he  couldn't." 

"I  think  he's  real  tiresome,"  Daisy  pur 
sued. 

Then,  for  some  moments,  there  was  silence. 
"Well,  Daisy  Miller,"  said  the  elder  lady, 
presently,  "  I  shouldn't  think  you'd  want  to 
talk  against  your  own  brother !" 

"  Well,  he  is  tiresome,  mother,"  said  Dai^y, 
quite  without  the  asperity  of  a  retort. 

"  He's  only  nine,"  urged  Mrs.  Miller. 

"  Well,  he  wouldn't  go  to  that  castle," 


44  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

tlie  young  girl.     "I'm  going  there  with  Mr. 
Wiuterbourne." 

To  this  announcement,  very  placidly  made, 
Daisy's  mamma  offered  no  response.  Win- 
terbourne  took  for  granted  that  she  deep 
ly  disapproved  of  the  projected  excursion ; 
but  he  said  to  himself  that  she  was  a  simple, 
easily-managed  person,  and  that  a  few  def 
erential  protestations  would  take  the  edge 
from  her  displeasure.  "Yes,"  he  began; 
"your  daughter  has  kindly  allowed  me  the 
honor  of  being  her  guide." 

Mrs.  Miller's  wandering  eyes  attached 
themselves,  with  a  sort  of  appealing  air,  to 
Daisy,  who,  however,  strolled  a.  few  steps 
farther,  gently  humming  to  herself.  "  I  pre 
sume  you  will  go  in  the  cars,"  said  her 
mother. 

"  Yes,  or  in  the  boat?"  said  Winterbourne. 

"Well,  of  course,  I  don't  know,"  Mrs.  Mil 
ler  rejoined.  "I  have  never  been  to  that 
castle." 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  shouldn't  go,"  said  Win 
terbourne,  beginning  to  feel  reassured  as  to 
her  opposition.  And  yet  he  was  quite  pre 
pared  to  find  that,  as  a  matter  of  course,  she 
meant  to  accompany  her  daughter. 

"  We've  been  thinking  ever  so  much  about 
going,"  she  pursued ;  "  but  it  seems  as  if  wo 


DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY.  45 

couldn't.  Of  course  Daisy— she  wants  to  go 
round.  But  there's  a  lady  here  —  I  don't 
know  her  name  —  she  says  she  shouldn't 
think  we'd  want  to  go  to  see  castles  here ; 
she  should  think  we'd  want  to  wait  till  we 
got  to  Italy.  It  seems  as  if  there  would  he 
so  many  there,"  continued  Mrs.  Miller,  with 
an  air  of  increasing  confidence.  "  Of  course 
we  only  want  to  see  the  principal  ones.  We 
visited  several  in  England/'  she  presently 
added. 

"Ah  yes!  in  England  there  are  beautiful 
castles,"  said  Wiuterhourne.  "  But  Chillon, 
here,  is  very  well  worth  seeing." 

"Well,  if  Daisy  feels  up  to  it — "  said  Mrs. 
Miller,  in  a  tone  impregnated  with  a  sense  of 
the  magnitude  of  the  enterprise.  "  It  seems 
as  if  there  was  nothing  she  wouldn't  under 
take." 

"  Oh,  I  think  she'll  enjoy  it !"  Wiuterbourne 
declared.  And  he  desired  more  and  more  to 
make  it  a  certainty  that  he  was  to  have  the 
privilege  of  a  tete-a-tete  with  the  young  lady, 
who  was  still  strolling  along  in  front  of  them, 
softly  vocalizing.  "  You  are  not  disposed, 
madam,"  he  inquired,  "  to  undertake  it  your 
self?" 

Daisy's  mother  looked  at  him  an  instant 
askance,  and  then  walked  forward  in  silence. 


46  DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY. 

Then — "I  guess  she  had  better  go  alone," 
she  said,  simply.  Winterbourne  observed 
to  himself  that  this  was  a  very  different 
type  of  maternity  from  that  of  the  vigilant 
matrons  who  massed  themselves  in  the  fore 
front  of  social  intercourse  in  the  dark  old 
city  at  the  other  end  of  the  lake.  But  his 
meditations  were  interrupted  by  hearing  his 
name  very  distinctly  pronounced  by  Mrs. 
Miller's  unprotected  daughter. 

"Mr.  Winterbourue!"  murmured  Daisy. 

"Mademoiselle!"  said  the  young  man. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  take  me  out  in  a 
boat  ?" 

"  At  present  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Of  course !"  said  Daisy. 

"  Well,  Annie  Miller!"  exclaimed  her  moth 
er. 

"  I  beg  you,  madam,  to  let  her  go,"  said 
Wmterbourne,  ardently ;  for  he  had  never 
yet  enjoyed  the  sensation  of  guiding  through 
the  summer  starlight  a  skiff  freighted  with 
a  fresh  and  beautiful  young  girl. 

"I  shouldn't  think  she'd  want  to,"  said 
her  mother.  "I  should  think  she'd  rather 
go  in -doors." 

"I'm  sure  Mr. Winterbonrne  wants  to  take 
me,"  Daisy  declared.  "He's  so  awfully  de- 
^  voted!" 


DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY.  47 

"I  will  row  you  over  to  Cbilloii  in  the 
starlight." 

"I  don't  believe  it!"  said  Daisy. 

"  Well !"  ejaculated  the  elder  lady  again. 

"You  haven't  spoken  to  me  for  half  an 
hour,"  her  daughter  went  on. 

"I  have  been  having  some  very  pleasant 
conversation  with  your  mother/7  said  Win- 
terbourne. 

"Well,  I  want  you  to  take  me  out  in  a 
boat!"  Daisy  repeated.  They  had  all  stop- 
jaed,  and  she  had  turned  round  and  was  look- 
_^g  at  Winterbourue.  Her  face  wore  a 
charming  smile,  her  pretty  eyes  were  gleam 
ing,  she  was  swinging  her  great  fan  about. 
No ;  it's  impossible  to  be  prettier  than  that, 
thought  Wiuterbourne. 

"  There  are  half  a  dozen  boats  moored  at 
that  landing-place,"  he  said,  pointing  to  cer 
tain  steps  which  descended  from  the  gar 
den  to  the  lake.  "If  you  will  do  me  the 
honor  to  accept  my  arm,  we  will  go  and  se 
lect  one  of  them." 

Daisy  stood  there  smiling ;  she  threw  back 
her  head  and  gave  a  little,  light  laugh.  "  I 
like  a  gentleman  to  be  formal !"  she  declared. 

"  I  assure  you  it's  a  formal  offer." 

"I  was  bound  I  would  make  you  say 
something/'  Daisy  went  on. 


48  DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY. 

"  You  see,  it's  not  very  difficult/7  said  Win- 
tcrbonrne.  "  But  I  am  afraid  you  are  chaff 
ing  me." 

"I  think  not,  sir/' remarked  Mrs.  Miller, 
yery  gently. 

"  Do,  then,  let  me  give  you  a  row,"  he  said 
to  the  young  girl. 

"  It's  quite  lovel}7,  the  way  you  say  that !" 
cried  Daisy. 

"It  will  be  still  more  lovely  to  do  it." 

"Yes,  it  would  be  lovely!"  said  Daisy. 
But  she  made  no  movement  to  accompany 
him  ;  she  only  stood  there  laughing. 

"I  should  think  you  had  better  find  out 
what  time  it  is,"  interposed  her  mother. 

"  It  is  eleven  o'clock,  madam,"  said  a  voice, 
with  a  foreign  accent,  out  of  the  neighbor 
ing  darkness;  and  Wiuterbonrne,  turning, 
perceived  the  florid  personage  who  was  in 
attendance  upon  the  two  ladies.  He  had 
apparently  just  approached. 

"Oh,  Eugenio,"  said  Daisy,  "I  am  going 
out  in  a  boat !" 

Eugenio  bowed.  "At  eleven  o'clock, 
mademoiselle?" 

"I  am  going  with  Mr.  Winterbourne — this 
very  minute.'' 

"  Do  tell  her  she  can't,"  said  Mrs.  Miller  to 
the  courier. 


DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY.  49 

"  I  think  you  had  better  not  go  out  in  a 
boat,  mademoiselle/7  Eugenio  declared. 

Wiuterbourne  wished  to  Heaven  this  pret 
ty  girl  were  not  so  familiar  with  her  courier : 
but  he  said  nothing. 

"I  suppose  you  don't  think  it's  proper!'-' 
Daisy  exclaimed.  "Eugenio  doesn't  think 
any  thing's  proper." 

"I  am  at  your  service/'  said  Winter- 
bourne. 

"  Does  mademoiselle  propose  to  go  alone  ?" 
asked  Eugenio  of  Mrs.  Miller. 

11  Oh  no ;  with  this  gentleman !"  answered 
Daisy's  mamma. 

The  courier  looked  for  a  moment  at  Win- 
terbourne — the  latter  thought  he  was  smil 
ing —  and  then,  solemnly,  with  a  bow,  "As 
mademoiselle  pleases !"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  hoped  you  would  make  a  fuss !" 
said  Daisy.  "  I  don't  care  to  go  now." 

"I  myself  shall  make  a  fuss  if  you  don't 
go,"  said  Winterbourne. 

"That's  all  I  want— a  little  fuss!"  And 
the  young  girl  began  to  laugh  again. 

"Mr.  Randolph  has  gone  to  bed!"  the 
courier  announced,  frigidly. 

"Oh,  Daisy;  now  we  can  go!"  said  Mrs. 
Miller. 

Daisy  turned  away  from  Winterbourne, 

C*  A 


50  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

looking  at  liim,  smiling,  and  fanning  herself, 
"  Good-night,"  she  said;  "I  hope  yon  are 
disappointed,  or  disgusted,  or  something!" 

He  looked  at  her,  taking  the  hand  she 
offered  him.  "  I  am  puzzled/'  he  answered. 

"Well,  I  hope  it  won't  keep  you  awake!" 
she  said,  very  smartly  ;  and,  under  the  escort 
of  the  privileged  Eugenio,  the  two  ladies 
passed  toward  the  house. 

Winterhourne  stood  looking  after  them; 
he  was  indeed  puzzled.  He  lingered  beside 
the  lake  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  turning 
over  the  mystery  of  the  young  girl's  sudden 
familiarities  and  caprices.  But  the  only 
very  definite  conclusion  he  came  to  was  that 
he  should  enjoy  deuced! y  "going  off"  with 
her  somewhere. 

Two  days  afterward  he  went  off  with  her 
to  the  Castle  of  Chillon.  He  waited  for 
her  in  the  large  hall  of  the  hotel,  where  the 
couriers,  the  servants,  the  foreign  tourists, 
were  lounging  about  and  staring.  It  was 
not  the  place  he  should  have  chosen,  but 
she  had  appointed  it.  She  came  tripping 
down -stairs,  buttoning  her  long  gloves, 
squeezing  her  folded  parasol  against  her 
pretty  figure,  dressed  in  the  perfection  of  a 
soberly  elegant  travelling  costume.  Win- 
terbonrue  was  a  man  of  imagination  and,  aa 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  51 

our  ancestors  used  to  say,  sensibility ;  as  lie 
looked  at  her  dress  and,  on  the  great  stair 
case,  her  little  rapid,  confiding  step,  he  felt 
as  if  there  were  something  romantic  going 
forward.  He  could  have  believed  he  was 
going  to  elope  with  her.  He  passed  out 
with  her  among  all  the  idle  people  that  were 
assembled  there;  they  were  all  looking  at 
her  very  hard;  she  had  begun  to  chatter  as 
soon  as  she  joined  him.  Winterbourne's 
preference  had  been  that  they  should  be 
conveyed  to  Chillon  in  a  carriage ;  but  she 
expressed  a  lively  wish  to  go  in  the  little 
steamer ;  she  declared  that  she  had  a  passion 
for  steamboats.  There  was  always  such  a 
lovely  breeze  upon  the  water,  and  you  saw 
such  lots  of  people.  The  sail  was  not  long, 
but  Winterbourne's  companion  found  time 
to  sajr  a  great  many  things.  To  the  young 
man  himself  their  little  excursion  was  so 
much  of  an  escapade — an  adventure — that, 
even  allowing  for  her  habitual  sense  of  free 
dom,  he  had  some  expectation  of  seeing  her 
regard  it  in  the  same  way.  But  it  must  be 
confessed  that,  in  this  particular,  he  was  dis 
appointed.  Daisy  Miller  was  extremely 
animated,  she  was  in  charming  spirits ;  but 
she  was  apparently  not  at  all  excited ;  she 
was  not  fluttered;  she  avoided  neither  his 


52  DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY. 

eyes  nor  those  of  any  one  else ;  she  blushed 
neither  when  she  looked  at  him  nor  when 
she  felt  that  people  were  looking  at  her. 
People  continued  to  look  at  her  a  great 
deal,  and  Winterbourne  took  ranch  satisfac 
tion  in  his  pretty  companion's  distinguished 
air.  He  had  been  a  little  afraid  that  she 
would  talk  loud,  laugh  overmuch,  and  even, 
perhaps,  desire  to  move  about  the  boat  a 
good  deal.  But  he  quite  forgot  his  fears; 
he  sat  smiling,  with  his  eyes  upon  her  face, 
while,  without  moving  from  her  place,  she 
delivered  herself  of  a  great  number  of  origi 
nal  reflections.  It  was  the  most  charming 
garrulity  he  had  ever  heard.  He  had  as 
sented  to  the  idea  that  she  was  "  common  ;" 
but  was  she  so,  after  all,  or  was  he  simply 
getting  used  to  her  commonness  ?  Her  con 
versation  was  chiefly  of  what  metaphysicians 
term  the  objective  cast ;  but  every  now  and 
then  it  took  a  subjective  turn. 

"  What  on  earth  are  yon  so  grave  about  ?" 
she  suddenly  demanded,  fixing  her  agreea 
ble  eyes  upon  Winterbourne's. 

"Am  I  grave?'7  he  asked.  ftl  had  an 
idea  I  was  grinning  from  ear  to  ear." 

"  You  look  as  if  you  were  taking  me  to  a 
funeral.  If  that's  a  grin,  your  ears  are  very 
near  together." 


DAISY  MILLEK:  A  STUDY.  53 

61  Should  you  like  me  to  dunce  a  hornpipe 
oil  the  deck?" 

"Pray  do,  and  I'll  carry  round  your  hat. 
It  will  pay  the  expenses  of  our  journey." 

"I  never  was  better  pleased  in  my  life," 
murmured  Wiuterbourne. 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  then 
burst  into  a  little  laugh.  "  I  like  to  make 
you  say  those  things!  You're  a  queer  mixt 
ure  !" 

In  the  castle,  after  they  had  landed,  the 
subjecti\7e  element  decidedly  prevailed. 
Daisy  tripped  about  the  vaulted  chambers, 
rustled  her  skirts  in  the  corkscrew  stair 
cases,  flirted  back  with  a  pretty  little  cry 
and  a  shudder  from  the  edge  of  the  oiibli- 
yttes,  and  turned  a  singularly  well -shaped 
ear  to  everything  that  Winterbourne  told 
her  about  the  place.'  But  he  saw  that  she 
cared  very  little  for  feudal  antiquities,  and 
that  the  dusky  traditions  of  Chillon  made 
but  a  slight  impression  upon  her.  They 
had  the  good  fortune  to  have  been  able  to 
walk  about  without  other  companionship 
than  that  of  the  custodian ;  and  Winter- 
bourne  arranged  with  this  functionary  that 
they  should  not  be  hurried  —  that  they 
should  linger  and  pause  wherever  they 
chose.  The  custodian  interpreted  the  bar- 


54  DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY. 

gain  generously — Winterboume,  on  his  side, 
had  been  generous — and  ended  by  leaving 
them  quite  to  themselves.  Miss  Miller's 
observations  were  not  remarkable  for  logi 
cal  consistency;  for  anything  she  wanted 
to  say  she  was  sure  to  find  a  pretext.  She 
found  a  great  many  pretexts  in  the  rugged 
embrasures  of  Chillon  for  asking  Winter- 
bourne  sudden  questions  about  himself— 
his  family,  his  previous  history,  his  tastes, 
his  habits,  his  intentions — and  for  supply 
ing  information  upon  corresponding  points 
in  her  own  personality.  Of  her  own  tastes, 
habits,  and  intentions  Miss  Miller  was  pre 
pared  to  give  the  most  definite,  and  indeed 
the  most  favorable  account. 

"Well,  I  hope  you  know  enough!"  she 
said  to  her  companion,  after  he  had  told  her 
the  history  of  the  unhappy  Bonivard.  "  I 
never  saw  a  man  that  knew  so  much  !"  The 
history  of  Bonivard  had  evidently,  as  they 
say,  gone  into  one  ear  and  out  of  the  other. 
But  Daisy  went  on  to  say  that  she  wished 
Winterbourne  would  travel  with  them  and 
"go  round"  with  them;  they  might  know 
something,  in  that  case.  "Don't  you  want 
to  come  and  teach  Randolph  ?"  she  asked. 
Winterbourne  said  that  nothing  could  pos 
sibly  please  him  so  much,  but  that  he  had 


I 

DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  55 

unfortunately  other  occupations.  "Other 
occupations  ?  I  don't  believe  it !"  said  Miss 
Daisy.  "What  do  you  mean?  You  are 
not  in  business."  The  young  man  admitted 
that  he  was  not  in  business;  but  he  had 
engagements  which,  even  within  a  day  or 
two,  would  force  him  to  go  back  to  Geneva. 
"  Oh,  bother !"  she  said  :  "  I  don't  believe  it !" 
and  she  began  to  talk  about  something  else. 
But  a  few  moments  later,  when  he  was 
pointing  out  to  her  the  pretty  design  of  an 
antique  fireplace,  she  broke  out  irrelevant 
ly,  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  are  going 
back  to  Geneva  ?" 

"It  is  a  melancholy  fact  that  I  shall  have 
to  return  to  Geneva  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Winterbourne,"  said  Daisy,  "  I 
think  you're  horrid !" 

"Oh,  don't  say  such  dreadful  things!" 
said  Winterbourne — "just  at  the  last!" 

"  The  last !"  cried  the  young  girl ;  "  I  call 
it  the  first.  I  have  half  a  mind  to  leave 
you  here  and  go  straight  back  to  the  hotel 
alone."  And  for  the  next  ten  minutes  she 
did  nothing  but  call  him  horrid.  Poor  Win 
terbourne  was  fairly  bewildered;  no  young 
lady  had  as  yet  done  him  the  honor  to  be  so 
agitated  by  the  announcement  of  his  move 
ments.  His  companion,  after  this,  ceased 


58  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

to  pay  any  attention  to  the  curiosities  of 
Chillon  or  the  beauties  of  the  lake;  she 
opened  fire  upon  the  mysterious  charmer 
in  Geneva  whom  she  appeared  to  have  in 
stantly  taken  it  for  granted  that  he  was 
hurrying  back  to  see.  How  did  Miss  Daisy 
Miller  know  that  there  was  a  charmer  in 
Geneva?  \Viiiterbourue,  who  denied  the  ex 
istence  of  such  a  person,  was  quite  unable 
to  discover  ;  and  he  was  divided  between 
amazement  at  the  rapidity  of  her  induction 
and  amusement  at  the  frankness  of  be?  per 
siflage.  She  seemed  to  him,  in  all  this,  an 
extraordinary  mixture  of  innocence  and  cru 
dity.  "  Does  she  never  allow  you  more  than 
three  days  at  a  time?"  asked  Daisy,  ironi 
cally.  "  Doesn't  she  give  you  a  vacation  in 
summer?  There's  no  one  so  hard  worked 
but  they  can  get  leave  to  go  off  somewhere 
at  this  season.  I  suppose,  if  you  stay  an 
other  day,  she'll  come  after  you  in  the  boat. 
Do  wait  over  till  Friday,  and  I  will  go  down 
to  the  landing  to  see  her  arrive !"  Winter- 
bourne  began  to  think  he  had  been  wrong 
to  feel  disappointed  in  the  temper  in  which 
the  young  lady  had  embarked.  If  he  had 
.  missed  the  personal  accent,  the  personal  ac 
cent  was  now  making  its  appearance.  It 
sounded  very  distinctly,  at  last,  in  her  tell- 


DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY.  57 

ing  him  she  would  stop  "teasing"  him  if  be 
would  promise  her  solemnly  to  come  down 
to  Rome  in  the  winter. 

"That's  not  a  difficult  promise  to  make/' 
said  Wiuterbourne.  "My  aunt  has  taken 
an  apartment  in  Rome  for  the  winter,  and 
has  already  asked  me  to  come  and  see  her." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  come  for  your  aunt," 
said  Daisy ;  "  I  want  you  to  come  for  me." 
And  this  was  the  only  allusion  that  the 
young  man  was  ever  to  hear  her  make  to 
his  invidious  kinswoman.  He  declared  that, 
at  any  rate,  he  would  certainly  come.  After 
this  Daisy  stopped  teasing.  Winterbourne 
took  a  carriage,  and  they  drove  back  toVevay 
in  the  dusk ;  the  young  girl  was  very  quiet. 

In  the  evening  Winterbourue  mentioned 
to  Mrs.  Costello  that  he  had  spent  the  after 
noon  at  Chillon  with  Miss  Daisy  Miller. 

"  The  Americans — of  the  courier  ?"  asked 
this  lady. 

"Ah,  happily,"  said  Winterbourne,  "the 
courier  stayed  at  home." 

"  She  went  with  you  all  alone  ?" 

"All  alone." 

Mrs.  Costello  sniffed  a  little  at  her  smell 
ing-bottle.  "And  that,"  she  exclaimed,  "is 
the  young  person  whom  you  wanted  me  to 
know!" 


58  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 


PART  II. 

WINTERBOURNE,  who  had  returned  to 
Geneva  the  day  after  his  excursion  to  Chil- 
lon,  went  to  Rome  toward  the  end  of  Janu 
ary.  His  aunt  had  been  established  there 
for  several  weeks,  and  he  had  received  a  cou 
ple  of  letters  from  her.  "  Those  people  you 
were  so  devoted  to  last  summer  at  Yevay 
have  turned  up  here,  courier  and  all,"  she 
wrote.  "  They  seem  to  have  made  several 
acquaintances,  but  the  courier  continues  to 
be  the  most  intime.  The  young  lady,  how 
ever,  is  also  very  intimate  with  some  third- 
rate  Italians,  with  whom  she  rackets  about 
in  a  way  that  makes  much  talk.  Lring  me 
that  pretty  novel  of  Cherbnliez's —  'Paule 
M6re  ' — and  don't  come  later  than  the  23d." 

In  the  natural  course  of  events,  Winter- 
bourne,  on  arriving  in  Rome,  would  pres 
ently  have  ascertained  Mrs.  Miller's  address 
at  the  American  banker's,  and  have  gone  to 
pay  his  compliments  to  Miss  Daisy.  "  Af 
ter  what  happened  at  Vevay,  I  think  I  may 
certainly  call  upon  them,"  he  said  to  Mrs. 
Costello. 

"If,  after  what  happens  —  at  Vevay  and 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  59 

everywhere — yon  desire  to  keep  up  the  ac 
quaintance,  you  are  very  welcome.  Of  course 
a  man  may  know  every  one.  Men  are  wel- 
come  to  the  privilege  !" 

"  Pray  what  is  it  that  happens — here,  for 
instance  ?"  Winterbourne  demanded. 

"The  girl  goes  about  alone  with  her  for 
eigners.  As  to  what  happens  further,  you. 
must  apply  elsewhere  for  information.  She 
has  picked  up  half  a  dozen  of  the  regular 
Roman  fortune-hunters,  and  she  takes  them 
about  to  people's  houses.  When  she  comes 
to  a  party  she  brings  with  her  a  gentleman 
with  a  good  deal  of  manner  and  a  wonder 
ful  mustache." 

"  And  where  is  the  mother?" 

"  I  haven't  the  least  idea.  They  are  very 
dreadful  people." 

Winterbourne  meditated  a  moment.  "They 
are  very  ignorant — very  innocent  only.  De 
pend  upon  it  they  are  not  bad." 

"  They  are  hopelessly  vulgar,"  said  Mrs. 
Costello.  "  Whether  or  no  being  hopelessly 
vulgar  is  being  'bad'  is  a  question  for  the 
metaphysicians.  They  are  bad  enough  to 
dislike,  at  any  rate;  and  for  this  short  life 
that  is  quite  enough." 

The  news  that  Daisy  Miller  was  surround 
ed  by  half  a  dozen  wonderful  mustaches 


60  DAISY  MILLER:    A  STUDY. 

checked  Winterbourne's  impulse  to  go 
straightway  to  see  her.  He  had,  perhaps, 
not  definitely  flattered  himself  that  he  had 
made  an  ineffaceable  impression  upon  her 
heart,  but  he  was  annoyed  at  hearing  of  a 
state  of  affairs  so  little  in  harmony  with  an 
image  that  had  lately  flitted  in  and  out  of  his 
own  meditations;  the  image  of  a  very  pret 
ty  girl  looking  out  of  an  old  Roman  window 
and  asking  herself  urgently  when  Mr.  Win- 
terbourne  would  arrive.  If,  however,  he  de 
termined  to  wait  a  little  before  reminding 
Miss  Miller  of  his  claims  to  her  considera 
tion,  he  went  very  soon  to  call  upon  two  or 
three  other  friends.  One  of  these  friends 
was  an  American  lady  who  had  spent  sever 
al  winters  at  Geneva,  where  she  had  placed 
her  children  at  school.  She  was  a  very  ac 
complished  woman,  and  she  lived  in  the  Via 
Gregoriana.  Winterbourue  found  her  in  a 
little  crimson  drawing-room  on  a  third  floor ; 
the  room  was  filled  with  southern  sunshine. 
He  had  not  been  there  ten  minutes  when 
the  servant  came  in,  announcing  "Madame 
Mila!"  This  announcement  was  presently 
followed  by  the  entrance  of  little  Randolph 
Miller,  who  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  and  stood  staring  at  Winterboume. 
An  instant  later  his  pretty  sister  crossed  the 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  61 

threshold  ;  and  then,  after  a  considerable  in 
terval,  Mrs.  Miller  slowly  advanced. 

"  I  know  you !"  said  Randolph. 

"  I'm  sure  you  know  a  great  many  things," 
exclaimed  Winterbohrue,  taking  him  by  the 
hand.  "How  is  vour  education  coming 
on?'7 

Daisy  was  ox  changing  greetings  very  pret 
tily  with  her  hostess  ;  but  when  she  heard 
Winterbourue's  voice  she  quickly  turned  her 
head.  "  Well,  I  declare !"  she  said. 

"I  told  you  I  should  come,  you  know/' 
Wiuterbourne  rejoined,  smiling. 

"Well,  I  didn't  believe  it,"  said  Miss 
Daisy. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  laughed  the 
young  man. 

"You  might  have  come  to  see  me!"  said 
Daisy. 

"  I  arrived  only  yesterday." 

"I  don't  believe  that !"  the  young  girl  de 
clared. 

Winterbourne  turned  with  a  protesting 
smile  to  her  mother;  but  this  lady  evaded 
his  glance,  and,  seating  herself,  fixed  her 
eyes  upon  her  son.  "We've  got  a  bigger 
place  than  this,"  said  Randolph.  "It's  all 
gold  on  the  walls." 

Mrs.  Miller  turned  uneasily  in  her  chair. 


62  DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY. 

"  I  told  you  if  I  were  to  bring  you,  you  would 
say  something!"  she  murmured. 

"I  told  you!"  Randolph  exclaimed.  UI 
tell  you,  sir!"  lie  added,  jocosely,  giving  Win- 
terbourne  a  thump  on  the  knee.  "  It  is  big 
ger,  too !" 

Daisy  had  entered  upon  a  lively  conversa 
tion  with  her  hostess ;  Winterbourne  judged 
it  becoming  to  address  a  few  words  to  her 
mother.  "I  hope  you  have  been  well  since 
we  parted  at  Vevay,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Miller  now  certainly  looked  at  him 
—at  his  chic.  "  Not  very  well,  sir,"  she  an 
swered. 

"  She's  got:  the  dyspepsia,"  said  Randolph. 
ti  i've  g0t,  it  too.  Father's  got  it.  I've  got 
it  most!" 

This  announcement,  instead  of  embarrass 
ing  Mrs.  Miller,  seemed  to  relieve  her.  "I 
suffer  from  the  liver,"  she  said.  "I  think 
it's  this  climate  ;  it's  less  bracing  than  Sche- 
nectady,  especially  in  the  winter  season.  I 
don't  know  whether  you  know  we  reside  at 
Schenectady.  I  was  saying  to  Daisy  that  I 
certainly  hadn't  found  any  one  like  Dr.  Davis, 
and  I  didn't  believe  I  should.  Oh,  at  Sche 
nectady  he  stands  first;  they  think  every 
thing  of  him.  He  has  so  much  to  do,  and. 
yet  there  was  nothing  he  wouldn't  do  for 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  63 

me.  He  said  he  never  sa\v  anything  like 
my  dyspepsia,  but  he  was  bound  to  cure  it. 
I'm  sure  there  was  nothing  he  wouldn't  try. 
He  was  just  going  to  try  something  new 
when  we  came  off.  Mr.  Miller  wanted  Daisy 
to  see  Europe  for  herself.  But  I  wrote  to 
Mr.  Miller  that  it  seems  as  if  I  couldn't  get 
on  without  Dr.  Davis.  At  Schenectady  he 
stands  at  the  very  top  ;  and  there's  a  great 
deal  of  sickness  there,  too.  It  affects  my 
sleep." 

Winterbourne  had  a  good  deal  of  patho 
logical  gossip  with  Dr.  Davis's  patient,  dur 
ing  which  Daisy  chattered  unremittingly  to 
her  own  companion.  The  young  man  asked 
Mrs.  Miller  how  she  was  pleased  with  Rome. 
''Well.  I  must  say  I  am  disappointed,"  she 
answered.  "  We  had  heard  so  much  about 
it ;  I  suppose  we  had  heard  too  much.  But 
we  couldn't  help  that.  We  had  been  led  to 
expect  something  different." 

"Ah,  wait  a  little,  and  you  will  become 
very  fond  of  it,"  said  Winterbourne. 

"I  hate  it  worse  and  worse  every  day!" 
cried  Randolph. 

"You  are  like  the  infant  Hannibal," said 
Winterbourne. 

"No,  I  ain't!"  Randolph  declared,  at  a 
venture. 


64  DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY. 

"  You  arc  not  much  like  an  infant,17  said  his 
mother.  "  But  we  have  seen  places,"  she  re- 
sinned,  "  that  I  should  put  a  long  way  before 
Rome."  And  in  reply  to  Winterbourne's  in 
terrogation,  " There's  Zurich,"  she  concluded, 
"I  think  Zurich  is  lovely;  and  we  hadn't 
heard  half  so  much  about  it." 

"  The  best  place  we've  seen  is  the  City  of 
Richmond!"  said  Randolph. 

"  He  means  the  ship,"  his  mother  explain 
ed.  "  We  crossed  in  that  ship.  Randolph 
had  a  good  time  on  the  City  of  Richmond." 

"It's  the  best  place  I've  seen,"  the  child 
repeated.  "  Only  it  was  turned  the  wrong 
way." 

"  Well,  we've  got  to  turn  the  right  way 
some  time,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  with  a  little 
laugh.  Winterbourne  expressed  the  hope 
that  her  daughter  at  least  found  some  grat 
ification  in  Rome,  and  she  declared  that 
Daisy  was  quite  carried  away.  "  It's  on  ac 
count  of  the  society  —  the  society's  splen 
did.  She  goes  round  everywhere  ;  she  has 
made  a  great  number  of  acquaintances.  Of 
course  she  goes  round  more  than  I  do.  I 
must  say  they  have  been  very  sociable  ;  they 
have  taken  her  right  in.  And  then  she 
knows  a  great  many  gentlemen.  Oh,  she 
thinks  there's  nothing  like  Rome.  Of  course, 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  65 

it's  a  great  deal  pleasauter  for  a  young  lady 
if  she  knqws  plenty  of  gentlemen." 

By  this  time  Daisy  had  turned  her  atten 
tion  again  to  Wiuterbourne.  "I've  been 
telling  Mrs.  Walker  how  mean  yon  were !" 
the  young  girl  announced. 

"And  what  is  the  evidence  you  have  of 
fered  ?"  asked  Winterbourue,  rather  annoyed 
at  Miss  Miller's  want  of  appreciation  of  the 
zeal  of  an  admirer  who  on  his  way  down  to 
Rome  had  stopped  neither  at  Bologna  nor 
at  Florence,  simply  because  of  a  certain  sen 
timental  impatience.  He  remembered  that 
a  cynical  compatriot  had  once  told  him  that 
American  women — the  pretty  ones,  and  this 
gave  a  largeness  to  the  axiom — were  at  once 
the  most  exacting  in  the  world  and  the  least 
endowed  with  a  sense  of  indebtedness. 

"  Why,  yon  were  awfully  mean  at  Vevay," 
said  Daisy.  "You  wouldn't  do  anything. 
Yon  wouldn't  stay  there  when  I  asked  yon." 

"My  dearest  young  lady,"  cried  Winter- 
bourne,  with  eloquence,  "  have  I  come  all 
the  way  to  Rome  to  encounter  your  reproach 
es?" 

"Just  hear  him  say  that!"  said  Daisy  to 
her  hostess,  giving  a  twist  to  a  bow  on  this 
lady's  dress.  "  Did  yon  eVer  hear  anything 
so  quaint?" 


66  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

"So  quaint,  my  dear?"  murmured  Mrs. 
Walker,  iu  the  tone  of  a  partisan  of  Wirwter- 
boutne. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Daisy,  finger 
ing  Mrs.  Walker's  ribbons.  "  Mrs.  Walker,  I 
Want  to  tell  you  something." 

"  Mother-r,"  interposed  Randolph,  with  his 
rough  ends  to  his  words,  "I  tell  you  you've 
got  to  go.  Eugeuio  '11  raise — something!" 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  Eugenio,"said  Daisy, 
with  a  toss  of  her  head.  "  Look  here,  Mrs. 
Walker," she  went  on,  "you  know  I'm  com 
ing  to  your  party." 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  it." 

"  I've  got  a  lovely  dress !" 

"I  am  very  sure  of  that." 

"But  I  wrant  to  ask  a  favor — permission 
to  bring  a  friend." 

"I  shall  be  happy  to  see  any  of  your 
friends,"  said  Mrs.  Walker,  turning  with  a 
smile  to  Mrs.  Miller. 

"Oh,  they  are  not  my  friends,"  answered 
Daisy's  mamma,  smiling  shyly,  in  her  own 
fashion.  "  I  never  spoke  to  them." 

"It's  an  intimate  friend  of  mine  —  Mr. 
Giovanelli,"  said  Daisy,  without  a  tremor 
in  her  clear  little,  voice  or  a  shadow  on  her 
brilliant  little  face. 

Mrs.  Walker  was  silent  a  moment ;  she 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  67 

gave  a  rapid  glance  at  Winterbourne.  "  I 
shall  be  glad  to  see  Mr.  Giovauelli/'she  then 
said. 

"Pie's  ail  Italian/'  Daisy  pursued,  with 
the  prettiest  serenity.  "  He's  a  great  friend 
of  mine ;  he's  the  handsomest  man  in  the 
world  —  except  Mr.  Winterbourne !  He 
knows  plenty  of  Italians,  but  he  wants  to 
know  some  Americans.  He  thinks  ever  so 
much  of  Americans.  He's  tremendously 
clever.  He's  perfectly  lovely !" 

It  was  settled  that  this  brilliant  person 
age  should  be  brought  to  Mrs.  Walker's 
party,  and  then  Mrs.  Miller  prepared  to  take 
her  leave.  "I  guess  we'll  go  back  to  the 
hotel,"  she  said. 

"Yon  may  go  back  to  the  hotel,  moth 
er,  but  I'm  going  to  take  a  walk/7  said 
Daisy. 

"  She's  going  to  walk  with  Mr.  Giovanel- 
li/;  Randolph  proclaimed. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  Pincio,"  said  Daisy, 
smiling. 

"Alone,  my  dear  —  at  this  hour?"  Mrs. 
Walker  asked.  The  afternoon  was  drawing 
to  a  close — it  was  the  hour  for  the  thron^ 

?3 

of  carriages  and  of  contemplative  pedestri 
ans.  "  I  don't  think  it's  safe,  my  dear."  said 
Mrs.  Walker. 


68  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

"Neither  do  I,"  subjoined  Mrs.  Miller. 
"You'll  get  the  fetfer,  as  sure  as  you  live. 
Remember  what  Dr.  Davis  told  you  !" 

"  Give  her  some  medicine  before  she  goes/' 
said  Randolph. 

The  company  had  risen  to  its  feet ;  Daisy, 
still  showing  her  pretty  teeth,  bent  over  and 
kissed  her  hostess.  "  Mrs.  Walker,  you  are 
too  perfect/'  she  said.  "  I'm  not  going  alone  j 
I  am  going  to  meet  a  friend." 

"  Your  friend  won't  keep  you  from  getting 
the  fever/7  Mrs.  Miller  observed. 

"  Is  it  Mr.  Giovanelli  ?"  asked  the  hostess. 

Winterbourne  was  Avatching  the  young 
girl  J  at  this  question  his  attention  quicken 
ed.  She  stood  there  smiling  and  smoothing 
her  bonnet  ribbons;  she  glanced  at  Winter- 
bourne.  Then,  while  she  glanced  and  smiled, 
she  answered,  without  a  shade  of  hesitation, 
"  Mr.  Giovanelli — the  beautiful  Giovanelli." 

"  My  dear  young  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Walker, 
taking  her  hand,  pleadingly,  " don't  walk 
off  to  the  Pincio  at  this  hour  to  meet  a 
beautiful  Italian." 

"  Well,  he  speaks  English,"  said  Mrs.  Mil 
ler. 

"  Gracious  me !"  Daisy  exclaimed,  "  I  don't 
want  to  do  anything  improper.  There's  an 
easy  way  to  settle  it."  She  continued  to 


DAISY  MILLEli:    A   STUDY.  69 

glance  at  Winterbourue.  "The  Pincio  is 
only  a  hundred  yards  distant ;  and  if  Mr. 
Winterbourne  were  as  polite  as  lie  pretends, 
lie  would  offer  to  walk  with  me  !'; 

Winterbourne's  politeness  hastened  to  af 
firm  itself,  and  the  young  girl  gave  him  gra 
cious  leave  to  accompany  her.  They  passed 
down-stairs  before  her  mother,  and  at  the 
door  Wiuterbourue  perceived  Mrs.  Miller's 
carriage  drawn  up,  with  the  ornamental 
courier  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made  at 
Vevay  seated  within.  "  Good-bye,  Eugenio !" 
cried  Daisy;  "I'm  going  to  take  a  walk." 
The  distance  from  the  Via  Gregoriana  to 
the  beautiful  garden  at  the  other  end  of  the 
Piucian  Hill  is,  in  fact,  rapidly  traversed. 
As  the  day  was  splendid,  however,  and  the 
concourse  of  vehicles,  walkers,  and  loungers 
numerous,  the  young  Americans  found  their 
progress  much  delayed.  This  fact  was  high 
ly  agreeable  to  Winterbourne,  in  spite  of  his 
consciousness  of  his  singular  situation.  The 
slow-moving,  idly-gazing  Roman  crowrd  be 
stowed  much  attention  upon  the  extremely 
pretty  young  foreign  lady  who  was  passing 
through  it  upon  his  arm ;  and  he  wondered 
what  on  earth  had  been  in  Daisy's  mind 
when  she  proposed  to  expose  herself,  unat 
tended,  to  its  appreciation.  His  own  mis- 


70  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

sion,  to  her  sense,  apparently,  was  to  consign 
her  to  the  hands  of  Mr.  Giovauelli ;  but  Win- 
terbourne,  at  once  annoyed  and  gratified,  re 
solved  that  he  would  do  no  such  thing. 

"  Why  haven't  you  been  to  see  me  ?"  asked 
Daisy.  "  You  can't  get  out  of  that." 

tl  I  have  had  the  honor  of  telling  you  that 
I  have  only  just  stepped  out  of  the  train." 

"  You  must  have  stayed  in  the  train  a  good 
while  after  it.  stopped !"  cried  the  young  girl, 
with  her  little  laugh.  "  I  suppose  you  were 
asleep.  You  have  had  time  to  go  to  see  Mrs. 
Walker." 

"I  knew  Mrs.  Walker—  "  Wiuterbourne 
began  to  explain. 

"  I  know  where  you  knew  her.  You  knew 
her  at  Geneva.  She  told  me  so.  Well,  you 
knew  me  at  Vevay.  That's  just  as  good. 
So  you  ought  to  have  come."  She  asked 
him  no  other  question  than  this;  she  began 
to  prattle  about  her  own  affairs.  "We've 
got  splendid  rooms  at  the  hotel ;  Eugenio 
says  they're  the  best  rooms  in  Rome.  We 
are  going  to  stay  all  winter,  if  we  don't  die 
of  the  fever;  and  I  guess  we'll  stay  then. 
It's  a  great  deal  nicer  than  I  thought ;  I 
thought  it  would  be  fearfully  quiet ;  I  was 
sure  it  would  be  awfully  poky.  I  was  sure 
we  should  be  going  round  all  the  time  with 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  /I 

oue  of  those  dreadful  old  men  that  explain 
about  the  pictures  and  things.  But  we  only 
had  about  a  week  of  that,  aiid  now  I'm  en 
joying  myself.  I  know  ever  so  many  peo 
ple,  and  they  are  all  so  charming.  The  so 
ciety's  extremely  select.  There  are  all  kinds 
— English,  and  Germans,  and  Italians.  I 
think  I  like  the  English  best.  I  like  their 
style  of  conversation.  But  there  are  some 
lovely  Americans.  I  never  saw  anything 
so  hospitable.  There's  something  or  other 
every  day.  There's  not  rnnch  dancing ;  but 
I  must  say  I  never  thought  dancing  was 
everything.  I  was  always  fond  of  conver 
sation.  I  guess  I  shall  have  plenty  at  Mrs. 
Walker's,  her  rooms  are  so  small."  When 
they  had  passed  the  gate  of  the  Pincian 
Gardens,  Miss  Miller  began  to  wonder  where 
Mr. Giovanelli  might  be.  "We  had  better 
go  straight  to  that  place  in  front,"  she  said, 
"  where  you  look  at  the  view." 

u  I  certainly  shall  not  help  you  to  find 
him."  Wiuterboume  declared. 

"  Then  I  shall  find  him  without  you,"  said 
Miss  Daisy. 

"Yon  certainly  won't  leave  me!"  cried 
Winterbourne. 

She  burst  into  her  little  laugh.  "Are  you 
afraid  you'll  get  lost  —  or  run  over?  But 


72  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

there's  Giovanelli,  leaning  against  that  tree. 
He's  staring  at  the  women  in  the  carriages: 
did  you  ever  see  anything  so  cool?" 

Winterbourne  perceived  at  some  distance 
a  little  man  standing  with  folded  arms  nurs- 
ing  his  cane.  He  had  a  handsome  face,  an 
artfully  poised  hat,  a  glass  in  one  eye,  and 
a  nosegay  in  his  button-hole.  Winterbourne 
looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
"Do  you  mean,  to  speak  to  that  man?" 

"  Do  I  mean  to  speak  to  him  ?  Why,  you 
don't  suppose  I  mean,  to  communicate  by 
signs  ?" 

"Pray  understand,  then,"  said  Winter- 
bourne,  "  that  I  intend  to  remain  with  you." 

Daisy  stopped  and  looked  at  him,  with 
out  a  sign  of  troubled  consciousness  in  her 
face ;  with  nothing  but  the  presence  of 
her  charming  eyes  and  her  happy  dimples. 
"  Well,  she's  a  cool  one !"  thought  the  young 
man. 

"  I  don't  like  the  way  you  say  that,"  said 
Daisy.  "It's  too  imperious." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  say  it  wrong. 
The  main  point  is  to  give  you  an  idea  of 
my  meaning." 

The  young  girl  looked  at  him  more  grave 
ly,  but  with  eyes  that  were  prettier  than 
ever.  "  I  have  never  allowed  a  gentleman 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  7.> 

to  dictate  to  me,  or  to  interfere  with  any 
thing  I  do." 

"I  think  you  have  made  a  mistake,"  said 
Winterbourne.  "You  should  sometimes  lis 
ten  to  a  gentleman — the  right  one." 

Daisy  began  to  laugh  again.  "I  do  noth 
ing  hut  listen  to  gentlemen  !"  she  exclaimed. 
"  Tell  me  if  Mr.  Giovauelli  is  the  right  one  ?" 

The  gentleman  with  the  nosegay  in  his 
hosorn  had  now  perceived  our  two  friends, 
and  was  approaching  the  young  girl  with 
obsequious  rapidity.  He  howed  to  Winter- 
hourue  as  well  as  to  the  latter's  companion ; 
lie  had  a  brilliant  smile,  an  intelligent  eye ; 
Winterhourne  thought  him  not  a  bad-look 
ing  fellow.  But  he  nevertheless  said  to 
Daisy,  "No,  he's  not  the  right  one." 

Daisy  evidently  had  a  natural  talent  for 
performing  introductions ;  she  mentioned 
tbe  name  of  each  of  her  companions  to  the 
other.  She  strolled  along  with  one  of  them 
on  each  side  of  her;  Mr.  Giovanelli,  who 
spoke  English  very  cleverly — Winterhourue 
afterward  learned  that  he  had  practised  the 
idiom  upon  a  great  many  American  heiress 
es — addressed  her  a  great  deal  of  very  polite 
nonsense ;  he  was  extremely  urbane,  and  the 
young  American,  who  said  nothing,  reflect 
ed  upon  that  profundity  of  Italian  clever- 


74  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

ness  which  enables  people  to  appear  more 
gracious  iu  proportion  as  they  are  more 
acutely  disappointed.  Giovauelli,  of  course, 
had  counted  upon  something  more  intimate ; 
he  had  not  bargained  for  a  party  of  three. 
But  he  kept  his  temper  in  a  manner  which 
suggested  far-stretching  intentions.  Win- 
terbourne  flattered  himself  that  he  had  tak 
en  his  measure.  "  He  is  not  a  gentleman/' 
said  the  young  American;  "he  is  only  a- 
clever  imitation  of  one.  He  is  a  music- 
master,  or  a  penny-a-liner,  or  a  third-rate 
artist.  D — n  his  good  looks !"  Mr.  Giova- 
nelli  had  certainly  a  very  pretty  face;  but 
Wiuterbourne  felt  a  superior  indignation  at 
his  own  lovely  fellow-countrywoman's  not 
knowing  the  difference  between  a  spurious 
gentleman  and  a  real  one.  Giovanelli  chat 
tered  and  jested,  and  made  himself  wonder 
fully  agreeable.  It  was  true  that,  if  he  was 
an  imitation,  the  imitation  was  brilliant. 
"  Nevertheless,"  Winterbonrue  said  to  him 
self,  "  a  nice  girl  ought  to  know !"  And 
then  he  came  back  to  the  question  whether 
this  was,  in  fact,  a  nice  girl.  Would  a  nice 
girl,  even  allowing  for  her  being  a  little 
American  flirt,  make  a  rendezvous  with  a 
presumably  low-lived  foreigner?  The  ren 
dezvous  in  this  case,  indeed,  had  been  in 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  7o 

broad  daylight,  and  in  the  most  crowded 
corner  of  Rome ;  but  was  it  not  impossible 
to  regard  the  choice  of  these  circumstances 
as  a  proof  of  extreme  cynicism  ?  Singular 
though  it  may  seem,  Winterbourue  was  vex 
ed  that  the  young  girl,  in  joining  her  amoro 
so,  should  not  appear  more  impatient  of  his 
own  company,  and  he  was  vexed  hecause  of 
his  inclination.  It  was  impossible  to  regard 
her  as  a  perfectly  well- conducted  young 
lady;  she  was  wanting  in  a  certain  indis 
pensable  delicacy.  It  would  therefore  sim 
plify  matters  greatly  to  be  able  to  treat  her 
as  the  object  of  one  of  those  sentiments 
which  are  called  by  romancers  ''lawless 
passions."  That  she  should  seein  to  wish 
to  get  rid  of  him  would  help  him  to  think 
more  lightly  of  her,  and  to  be  able  to  think 
more  lightly  of  her  would  make  her  much 
less  perplexing.  But  Daisy,  on  this  occa 
sion,  continued  to  present  herself  as  an  in 
scrutable  combination  of  audacity  and  in 
nocence. 

She  had  been  walking  some  quarter  of  an 
hour,  attended  by  her  two  cavaliers,  and  re 
sponding  in  a  tone  of  very  childish  gayety, 
as  it  seemed  to  Wiuterbourne,  to  the  pretty 
speeches  of  Mr.  Giovanelli,  when  a  carriage 
that  had  detached  itself  from  the  revolving 


76  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

train  drew  np  beside  tlie  path.  At  the  same 
moment  Winterbourne  perceived  that  his 
friend  Mrs.  Walker — the  lady  whose  house 
he  had  lately  left — was  seated  in  the  vehi 
cle,  and  was  beckoning  to  him.  Leaving 
Miss  Miller's  side,  he  hastened  to  obey  her 
summons.  Mrs.  Walker  was  flushed ;  she 
wore  an  excited  air.  "  It  is  really  too 
dreadful,"  she  said.  "That  girl  must  not 
do  this  sort  of  thing.  She  must  not  walk 
here  with  you  two  men.  Fifty  people  have 
noticed  her." 

Winterbonrne  raised  his  eyebrows.  "  I 
think  it's  a  pity  to  make  too  much  fuss 
about  it." 

"  It's  a  pity  to  let  the  girl  ruin  herself!" 

"  She  is  very  innocent/7  said  Winter- 
bourne. 

"  She's  very  crazy !"  cried  Mrs.  Walker. 
"Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  imbecile  as 
her  mother  ?  After  you  had  all  left  me  just 
now,  I  could  not  sit  still  for  thinking  of  it. 
It  seemed  too  pitiful,  not  even  to  attempt 
to  save  her.  I  ordered  the  carriage  and  put 
on  my  bonnet,  and  came  here  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Thank  Heaven  I  have  found  you !" 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do  with  us?" 
asked  Winterbourne,  smiling. 

"To  ask  her  to  get  in,  to  drive  her  about 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  77 

here  for  half  an  hour,  so  that  the  world  may 
see  she  is  not  running  absolutely  wild,  and 
then  to  take  her  safely  home." 

"  I  don't  think  it's  a  very  happy  thought," 
said  Winterbourne  ;  "  but  you  can  try." 

Mrs.  Walker  tried.  The  young  man  went 
in  pursuit  of  Miss  Miller,  who  had  simply 
nodded  and  smiled  at  his  interlocutor  in  the 
carriage,  and  had  gone  her  way  with  her 
companion.  Daisy,  on  learning  that  Mrs. 
Walker  wished  to  speak  to  her,  retraced  her 
steps  with  a  perfect  good  grace  and  with 
Mr.  Giovauelli  at  her  side.  She  declared 
that  she  Avas  delighted  to  have  a  chance  to 
present  this  gentleman  to  Mrs.  Walker.  She 
immediately  achieved  the  introduction,  and 
declared  that  she  had  never  in  her  life  seen 
anything  so  lovely  as  Mrs.  Walker's  carriage- 
rug. 

"  I  am  glad  you  admire  it,"  said  this  lady, 
smiling  sweetly.  "  Will  you  get  in  and  let 
me  put  it  over  you  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  thank  you, "said  Daisy.  "  I  shall 
admire  it  much  more  as  I  see  you  driving 
round  with  it." 

"Do  get  in  and  drive  with  me !" said  Mrs. 
Walker. 

"  That  would  be  charming,  but  it's  so  en 
chanting  just  as  I  am!"  and  Daisy  gave  a 


78  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

brilliant  glance  at  the  gentlemen  on  either 
side  of  her. 

"  It  may  be  enchanting,  clear  child,  but  it 
is  not  the  custom  here,"  urged  Mrs.  Walker, 
leaning  forward  in  her  victoria,  with  her 
hands  devoutly  clasped. 

"  Well,  it  ought  to  be,  then !"  said  Daisy. 
"  If  I  didn't  walk  I  should  expire." 

"You  should  walk  with  your  mother, 
dear,"  cried  the  lady  from  Geneva,  losing 
patience. 

"  With  my  mother  dear !"  exclaimed  the 
young  girl.  Winterbourne  saw  that  she 
scented  interference.  "My  mother  never 
walked  ten  steps  in  her  life.  And  then,  you 
know,"  she  added,  with. a  laugh,  "  I  am  more 
than  five  years  old." 

"  You  are  old  enough  to  be  more  reason 
able.  You  are  old  enough, dear  Miss  Miller, 
to  be  talked  about." 

Daisy  looked  at  Mrs.  Walker,  smiling  in 
tensely.  "Talked  about?  What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"  Come  into  my  carriage,  and  I  will  tell 
you." 

Daisy  turned  her  quickened  glance  again 
from  one  of  the  gentlemen  beside  her  to  the 
other.  Mr.  Giovanelli  was  bowing  to  and 
fro,  rubbing  down  his  gloves  and  laughing 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  79 

very  agreeably;  Winterbourne  thought  it 
a  most  unpleasant  scene.  "  I  don't  think  I 
want  to  know  what  you  mean/'  said  Dai 
sy,  presently.  "I  don't  think  I  should  like 
it." 

Winterbourne  wished  that  Mrs.  Walker 
would  tuck  in  her  carriage -rug  and  drive 
away;  but  this  lady  did  not  enjoy  being 
defied,  as  she  afterward  told  him.  "  Should 
you  prefer  being  thought  a  very  reckless 
girl  ?"  she  demanded. 

"  Gracious !"  exclaimed  Daisy.  She  look 
ed  again  at  Mr.  Giovauelli,  then  she  turned 
to  Winterbourne.  There  was  a  little  pink 
flush  in  her  cheek;  she  was  tremendously 
pretty.  "  Does  Mr.  Winterbourne  think/'  she 
asked,  slowly,  smiling,  throwing  back  her 
head  and  glancing  at  him  from  head  to  foot, 
"  that,  to  save  niy  reputation,  I  ought  to  get 
into  the  carriage  ?" 

Winterbourne  colored ;  for  an  instant  he 
hesitated  greatly.  It  seemed  so  strange  to 
hear  her  speak  that  way  of  her  "  reputa 
tion."  But  he  himself,  in  fact,  mast  speak 
in  accordance  with  gallantry.  The  finest 
gallantry,  here,  was  simply  to  tell  her  the 
truth  ;  and  the  truth,  for  Winterbourne,  as 
the  few  indications  I  have  been  able  to  give 
have  made  him  known  to  the  reader,  Avas 


80  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

that  Daisy  Miller  should  take  Mrs.  Walker's 
advice.  He  looked  at  her  exquisite  prefcti- 
ness,  and  then  he  said,  very  gently,  "  I  think 
you  should  get  into  the  carriage." 

Daisy  gave  a  violent  laugh.  "I  never 
heard  anything  so  stiff!  If  this  is  improper, 
Mrs.  Walker,"  she  pursued,  "  then  I  am  all 
improper, and  you  must  give  me  up.  "  Good 
bye  ;  I  hope  you'll  have  a  lovely  ride  !"  and, 
with  Mr.  Giovanelli,  who  made  a  triumph 
antly  obsequious  salute,  she  turned  away. 

Mrs.  Walker  sat  looking  after  her,  and 
there  were  tears  in  Mrs.  Walker's  eyes. 
"Get  in  here,  sir," she  said  to  Winterbourne, 
indicating  the  place  beside  her.  The  young 
man  answered  that  he  felt  bound  to  accom 
pany  Miss  Miller  ;  whereupon  Mrs.  Walker 
declared  that  if  he  refused  her  this  favor  she 
would  never  speak  to  him  again.  She  was 
evidently  in  earnest.  Winterbourne  over 
took  Daisy  and  her  companion,  and,  offering 
the  young  girl  his  hand,  told  her  that  Mrs. 
Walker  had  made  an  imperious  claim  upon 
his  society.  He  expected  that  in  answer 
she  would  say  something  rather  free,  some 
thing  to  commit  herself  still  further  to  that 
"  recklessness  "  from  which  Mrs.  Walker  had 
so  charitably  endeavored  to  dissuade  her. 
But  she  only  shook  his  hand,  hardly  looking 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  81 

at  him  ;  while  Mr.  Giovanelli  bade  him  fare 
well  with  a  too  emphatic  flourish  of  the 
hat. 

Wiuterbourne  was  not  in  the  best  possi 
ble  humor  as  he  took  his  seat  in  Mrs.  Walk 
er's  victoria.  "  That  was  not  clever  of  you," 
he  said,  candidly,  while  the  vehicle  mingled 
again  with  the  throng  of  carriages. 

uln  such  a  case,"  his  companion  answer 
ed,  "  I  don't  wish  to  be  clever;  I  wish  to  be 
earnest !" 

"  Well,  your  earnestness  has  only  offend 
ed  her  and  put  her  off." 

"It  has  happened  very  well,"  said  Mrs. 
Walker.  "  If  she  is  so  perfectly  determined 
to  compromise  herself,  the  sooner  one  knows 
it  the  better  ;  one  can  act  accordingly." 

lt  I  suspect  she  meant  no  harm,"  Winter- 
bourne  rejoined. 

"  So  I  thought  a  month  ago.  But  she  has 
been  going  too  far." 

"  What  has  she  been  doing  ?" 

"  Everything  that  is  not  done  here.  Flirt 
ing  with  any  man  she  could  pick  up  ;  sit 
ting  in  corners  with  mysterious  Italians ; 
dancing  all  the  evening  with  the  same  part 
ners  ;  receiving  visits  at  eleven  o'clock  at 
night.  Her  mother  goes  away  when  visit 
ors  come." 

D*  fi 


82  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

"  Bnt  her  brother,"  said  Winterbonrne, 
laughing,  "sits  up  till  midnight." 

"  Ilo  must  be  ediiied  by  what  he  sees.  Fin 
told  that  at  their  hotel  every  one  is  talk 
ing  about  her,  and  that  a  smile  goes  round 
among  all  the  servants  when  a  gentleman 
comes  and  asks  for  Miss  Miller." 

"The  servants  be  hanged!"  said  Winter- 
bourne,  angrily.  "The  poor  girl's  only 
fault,"  he  presently  added,  "is  that  she  is 
very  uncultivated." 

"  She  is  naturally  indelicate,"  Mrs.  Walker 
declared.  "  Take  that  example  this  morning. 
How  long  had  you  known  her  at  Vevay  ?" 

"  A  couple  of  days." 

"Fancy,  then,  her  making  it  a  personal 
matter  that  you  should  have  left  the  place !" 

Winterbourne  was  silent  for  some  mo 
ments  ;  then  lie  said,  "  I  suspect,  Mrs.  Walk 
er,  that  you  and  I  have  lived  too  long  at 
Geneva!"  And  he  added  a  request  that 
she  should  inform  him  with  what  particular 
design  sbe  had  made  him  enter  her  carriage, 

"  I  wished  to  beg  you  to  cease  your  rela 
tions  with  Miss  Miller — not  to  flirt  with  her 
— to  give  her  no  further  opportunity  to  ex 
pose  herself — to  let  her  alone,  in  short." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  do  that,"  said  Winter- 
bourne.  "  I  like  her  extremely." 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  83 

"All  the  more  reason  that  yon  shouldn't 
help  her  to  make  a  scandal.'7 

"There  shall  be  nothing  scandalous  in 
my  attentions  to  her." 

"There  certainly  will  he  in  the  way  she 
takes  them.  But  I  have  said  what  I  had 
on  my  conscience,"  Mrs.  Walker  pursued. 
"  If  you  wish  to  rejoin  the  young  lady  I  will 
put  you  down.  Here,  by-the-way,  you  have 
a  chance." 

The  carriage  was  traversing  that  part  of 
the  Pincian  Garden  that  overhangs  the  wall 
of  Rome  and  overlooks  the  beautiful  Villa 
Borghese.  It  is  bordered  by  a  large  para 
pet,  near  which  there  are  several  seats.  One 
of  the  seats  at  a  distance  was  occupied  by 
a  gentleman  and  a  lady,  toward  whom  Mrs. 
Walker  gave  a  toss  of  her  head.  At  the 
same  moment  these  persons  rose  and  walk 
ed  toward  the  parapet.  Winterbourne  had 
asked  the  coachman  to  stop ;  he  now  de 
scended  from  the  carriage.  His  companion 
looked  at  him  a  moment  in  silence;  then, 
while  he  raised  his  hat,  she  drove  majesti 
cally  away.  Winterbonrne  stood  there;  he 
had  turned  his  eyes  toward  Daisy  and  her 
cavalier.  They  evidently  saw  no  one ;  they 
were  too  deeply  occupied  with  each  other. 
When  they  reached  the  low  garden -wall, 


84  DAISY  MILLER:    A  STUDY. 

they  stood  a  moment  looking  off  at  the  great 
flat-topped  pine-clnsters  of  the  Villa  Bor- 
ghese ;  then  Giovanelli  seated  himself,  fa 
miliarly,  upon  the  broad  ledge  of  the  wall. 
The  western  sun  in  the  opposite  sky  sent 
out  a  brilliant  shaft  through  a  couple  of 
cloud -bars,  whereupon  Daisy's  compauion 
took  her  parasol  out  of  her  hands  and  open 
ed  it.  She  came  a  little  nearer,  and  he  held 
the  parasol  over  her;  then,  still  holding  it, 
he  let  it  rest  upon  her  shoulder,  so  that  both 
of  their  heads  were  hidden  from  Winter- 
bourne.  This  young  man  lingered  a  mo 
ment,  then  he  began  to  walk.  But  he  walk 
ed —  not  toward  the  couple  with  the  para 
sol;  toward  the  residence  of  his  aunt,  Mrs. 
Costello. 

He  flattered  himself  on  the  following  day 
that  there  was  no  smiling  among  the  servants 
when  he,  at  least,  asked  for  Mrs.  Miller  at 
\ier  hotel.  This  lady  and  her  daughter, 
however,  were  not  at  home  ;  and  on  the  next- 
day  after,  repeating  his  visit,  Winterbourne 
again  had  the  misfortune  not  to  find  them. 
Mrs.  Walker's  party  took  place  on  the  even 
ing  of  the  third  day,  and,  in  spite  of  the 
frigidity  of  his  last  interview  with  the  host 
ess,  Winterbourne  was  among  the  guests. 
Mrs.  Walker  was  one  of  those  American 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  85 

ladies  who,  while  residing  abroad,  make  a 
point,  in  their  own  phrase,  of  studying  Eu 
ropean  society  ;  and  she  had  on  this  occasion 
collected  several  specimens  of  her  diversely- 
born  fellow-mortals  to  serve,  as  it  were,  as 
text -books.  When  Winterbourne  arrived, 
Daisy  Miller  was  not  there,  but  in  a  few 
moments  he  saw  her  mother  come  in  alone, 
very  shyly  and  ruefully.  Mrs.  Miller's  hair 
above  her  exposed-looking  temples  was  more 
frizzled  than  ever.  As  she  approached  Mrs. 
Walker,  Winterbourne  also  drew  near. 

"You  see,  I've  come  all  alone,"  said  poor 
Mrs.  Miller.  "I'm  so  frightened;  I  don't 
know  what  to  do.  It's  the  first  time  I've 
ever  been  to  a  party  alone,  especially  in  this 
country.  I  wanted  to  bring  Randolph  or 
Eugeuio,  or  some  one,  but  Daisy  just  push 
ed  me  off  by  myself.  I  ain't  used  to  going 
round  alone." 

"And  does  not  your  daughter  intend  to 
favor  us  with  her  society?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Walker,  impressively. 

"  Well,  Daisy's  all  dressed,"  said  Mrs.  Mil 
ler,  with  that  accent  of  the  dispassionate,  if 
not  of  the  philosophic,  historian  with  which 
she  always  recorded  the  current  incidents 
of  her  daughter's  career.  "  She  got  dressed 
on  purpose  before  dinner.  But  she's  got  a 


86  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY* 

friend  of  hers  there ;  that  gentleman — the 
Italian — that  she  wanted  to  bring.  They've 
got  going  at  the  piano ;  it  seems  as  if  they 
couldn't  leave  off.  Mr.  Giovanelli  sings 
splendidly.  But  I  guess  they'll  come  be 
fore  very  long/'  concluded  Mrs.  Miller,  hope 
fully. 

"I'm  sorry  she  should  come  in  that  way," 
said  Mrs.  Walker. 

"Well,  I  told  her  that  there  was  no  use 
in  her  getting  dressed  before  dinner  if  she 
was  going  to  wait  three  hours,"  responded 
Daisy's  mamma.  "I  didn't  see  the  use  of 
her  putting  on  such  a  dress  as  that  to  sit 
round  with  Mr.  Giovanelli." 

"  This  is  most  horrible !"  said  Mrs.  Walker, 
turning  away  and  addressing  herself  to  Win- 
terbourne.  "  Elle  s'affiche.  It's  her  revenge 
for  my  having  ventured  to  remonstrate  with 
her.  When  she  comes,  I  shall  not  speak  to 
her." 

Daisy  came  after  eleven  o'clock ;  but  she 
was  not,  on  such  an  occasion,  a  young  lady 
to  wait  to  be  spoken  to.  She  rustled  for 
ward  in  radiant  loveliness,  smiling  and  chat 
tering,  carrying  a  large  bouquet,  and  attend 
ed  by  Mr.  Giovauelli.  Every  one  stopped 
talking,  and  turned  and  looked  at  her.  She 
came  straight  to  Mrs.  Walker.  "  I'm  afraid 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  87 

you  thought  I  never  was  coming,  so  I  sent 
mother  off  to  tell  you.  I  wanted  to  make 
Mr.  Giovanelli  practise  some  things  before 
lie  came;  you  know  he  sings  beautifully, 
and  I  waut  you  to  ask  him  to  sing.  This  is 
Mr.  Giovauelli ;  you  know  I  introduced  him 
to  you ;  he's  got  the  most  lovely  voice,  and 
he  knows  the  most  charming  set  of  songs. 
I  made  him  go  over  them  this  evening  on 
purpose ;  we  had  the  greatest  time  at  the 
hotel."  Of  all  this  Daisy  delivered  herself 
with  the  sweetest,  brightest  audibleness, 
looking  now  at  her  hostesa  and  now  round 
the  room,  while  she  gave  a  series  of  little 
pats,  round  her  shoulders,  to  the  edges  of 
lier  dress.  "  Is  there  any  one  I  know  TJ 
she  asked. 

"  I  think  every  one  knows  you !"  said  Mrs. 
Walker,  pregnantly,  and  she  gave  a  very 
cursory  greeting  to  Mr.  Giovanelli.  This 
gentleman  bore  himself  gallantly.  He  smiled 
and  bowed,  and  showed  his  white  teeth  ;  he 
curled  his  mustaches  and  rolled  his  eyes, 
and  performed  all  the  proper  functions  of  a 
handsome  Italian  at  an  evening  party.  He 
sang  very  prettily  half  a  dozen  songs,  though 
Mrs.  Walker  afterward  declared  that  she  had 
been  quite  unable  to  find  out  who  asked 
him.  It  was  apparently  not  Daisy  who 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

Lad  given  him  his  orders.  Daisy  sat  at  a 
distance  from  the  piano;  and  though  she 
had  publicly,  as  it  were,  professed  a  high 
admiration  for  his  singing,  talked,  not  in- 
audihly,  while  it  was  going  on. 

"  It's  a  pity  these  rooms  are  so  small ;  we 
can't  dance,"  she  said  to  Winterbourne,  as 
if  she  had  seen  him  five  minutes  before. 

"I  am  not  sorry  we  can't  dance,"  Wiuter- 
bourne  answered  ;  "  I  don't  dance." 

"  Of  course  you  don't  dance ;  you're  too 
stiff/'  said  Miss  Daisy.  "I  hope  you  enjoy- 
ed  your  drive  with  Mrs.  Walker!" 

"No,  I  didn't  enjoy  it;  I  preferred  walk 
ing  with  you." 

"  We  paired  off:  that  was  much  better," 
said  Daisy.  "  But  did  you  ever  hear  any 
thing  so  cool  as  Mrs.  Walker's  wanting  me 
to  get  into  her  carriage  aud  drop  poor  Mr. 
Giovauelli,  aud  under  the  pretext  that  it 
was  proper?  People  have  different  ideas! 
It  would  have  been  most  unkind ;  he  had 
been  talking  about  that  walk  for  ten  days." 

"  He  should  not  have  talked  about  it  at 
all,"  said  Winterbourne  ;  "  he  would  never 
have  proposed  to  a  young  lady  of  this  coun 
try  to  walk  about  the  streets  with  him." 

"About  the  streets  ?"  cried  Daisy,  with 
her  pretty  stare.  "  Where,  then,  would  he 


DAISY  MILLER  I    A   STUDY.  89 

have  proposed  to  her  to  walk  ?  The  Pincio 
is  not  the  streets,  either ;  and  I,  thank  good 
ness,  am  not  a  young  lady  of  this  country. 
The  young  ladies  of  this  country  have  a 
dreadfully  poky  time  of  it,  so  far  as  I  can 
learn ;  I  don't  see  why  I  should  change  my 
habits  for  them." 

u  I  am  afraid  your  habits  are  those  of  a 
flirt,"  said  Winterbourue,  gravely. 

"Of  course  they  are,"  she  cried,  giving 
him  her  little  smiling  stare  again.  "  I'm  a 
fearful,  frightful  flirt !  Did  you  ever  hear 
of  a  nice  girl  that  was  not  ?  But.  I  suppose 
you  will  tell  me  now  that  I  am  not  a  nice 
girl." 

"  You're  a  very  nice  girl ;  but  I  wish  you 
would  flirt  \vith  me,  and  me  only,"  said  Win- 
terbourne. 

"  Ah!  thank  you — thank  you  very  much; 
you  are  the  last  man  I  should  think  of  flirt 
ing  with.  As  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  in 
forming  you,  you  are  too  stiff." 

"You  say  that  too  often,"  said  Winter 
bourue. 

Daisy  gave  a  delighted  laugh.  "If  I 
could  have  the  sweet  hope  of  making  you 
augry,  I  should  say  it  again." 

"  Don't  do  that ;  when  I  am  angry  I'm 
stiffer  than  ever.  But  if  you  won't  flirt  with 


90  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

me,  dp  cease,  at  least,  to  flirt  with  yoirr 
friend  at  the  piano ;  they  don't  understand 
that  sort  of  thing  here." 

"  I  thought  they  understood  nothing  else!" 
exclaimed  Daisy. 

"  Not  in  young  unmarried  women." 

"It  seems  to  me  much  more  proper  in 
young  unmarried  women  than  in  old  mar 
ried  ones,"  Daisy  declared. 

"Well,"  said  Winterbourne,  "  when  you 
deal  with  natives  you  must  go  by  the  cus 
tom  of  the  place.  Flirting  is  a  purely 
American  custom  ;  it  doesn't  exist  here.  So 
when  you  show  yourself  in  public  with  Mr. 
Giovanelli,  and  without  your  mother — 

"  Gracious !  poor  mother !"  interposed 
Daisy. 

"  Though  you  may  be  flirting,  Mr.  Gio 
vanelli  is  not ;  he  means  something  else." 

"  He  isn't  preaching,  at  any  rate,"  said 
Daisy,  with  vivacity.  "And  if  you  want 
very  much  to  know,  we  are  neither  of  us 
flirting;  we  are  too  good  friends  for  that: 
we  are  very  intimate  friends." 

"Ah!''  rejoined  Winterbourne,  "if  you 
are  in  love  with  each  other,  it  is  another 
affair." 

She  had  allowed  him  up  to  this  point  to 
talk  so  frankly  that  he  had  no  expectation 


DAISY  MILLEK:  A  STUDY.  91 

of  shocking  her  by  this  ejaculation  ;  but  she 
immediately  got  up,  blushing  visibly,  and 
leaving  him  to  exclaim  mentally  that  little 
American  flirts  were  the  queerest  creatures 
in  the  world.  "  Mr.  Giovauelli,  at  least," 
she  said,  giving  her  interlocutor  a  single 
glance,  "  never  says  such  very  disagreeable 
things  to  me." 

Wiuterbourne  was  bewildered ;  he  stood 
staring.  Mr.  Giovauelli  had  finished  sing 
ing,  life  left  the  piano  and  came  over  to 
Daisy.  "Won't  you  come  into  the  other 
room  and  have  some  tea  If"  he  asked,  bend 
ing  before  her  with  his  ornamental  smile. 

Daisy  turned  to  Winterbourne,  beginning 
to  smile  again.  He  w^as  still  more  perplex 
ed,  for  this  inconsequent  smile,  made  noth 
ing  clear,  though  it  seemed  to  prove,  indeed, 
that  she  had  a  sweetness  and  softness  that 
reverted  instinc lively  to  the  pardon  of  of 
fences.  "It  has  never  occurred  to  Mr.  Win 
terbourne  to  offer  me  any  tea,"  she  said, 
with  her  little  tormenting  manner. 

"I  have  offered  you  advice,"  Winter- 
bourne  rejoined. 

"  I  prefer  weak  tea !"  cried  Daisy,  and  she 
went  off  with  the  brilliant  Giovauelli.  She 
sat  with  him  in  the  adjoining  room,  in  the 
embrasure  of  the  window,  for  the  rest  of  the 


92  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

evening.  There  was  an  interesting  perform 
ance  at  the  piano,  but  neither  of  these  young 
people  gave  heed  to  it.  When  Daisy  came 
to  take  leave  of  Mrs.  Walker,  this  lady  con 
scientiously  repaired  the  weakness  of  which 
she  had  been  guilty  at  the  moment  of  the 
young  girl's  arrival.  She  turned  her  back 
straight  upon  Miss  Miller,  and  left  her  to  de 
part  with  what  grace  she  might.  Winter- 
bourne  was  standing  near  the  door  ;  he  saw 
it  all.  Daisy  turned  very  pale,  and  looked 
at  her  mother ;  but  Mrs.  Miller  was  humbly 
unconscious  of  any  violation  of  the  usual 
social  forms.  She  appeared,  indeed,  to  have 
felt  an  incongruous  impulse  to  draw  atten 
tion  toher  own  striking  observance  of  them. 
"  Good-night,  Mrs.  Walker,"  she  said  ;  "  we've 
had  a  beautiful  evening.  You  see,  /f  I  let 
Daisy  come  to  parties  without  me,  I  don't 
want  her  to  go  away  without  me."  Daisy 
turned  away,  looking  with  a  pale,  grave  face 
at  the  circle  near  the  door;  Winterbourne 
saw  that,  for  the  first  moment,  she  was  too 
much  shocked  and  puzzled  even  for  indigna 
tion.  He  on  his  side  was  greatly  touched. 

"That  was  very  cruel/'  he  said  to  Mrs. 
Walker. 

"She  never  enters  my  drawing-room 
again  !"  replied  his  hostess. 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  93 

Since  Winterbourue  was  not  to  meet  lier 
in  Mrs.  Walker's  drawing-room,  lie  went  as 
often  as  possible  to  Mrs.  Miller's  hotel.  The 
ladies  were  rarely  at  Lome ;  but  when  be 
found  them,  the  devoted  Giovanelli  was  al 
ways  present.  Very  often  the  brilliant  lit 
tle  Roman  was  in  the  drawing-room  with 
Daisy  alone,  Mrs.  Miller  being  apparently 
constantly  of  the  opinion  that  discretion  is 
the  better  part  of  surveillance.  Winter- 
bourne  noted,  at  first  with  surprise,  that 
Daisy  on  these  occasions  was  never  embar 
rassed  or  annoyed  by  his  own  entrance ;  but 
he  very  presently  began  to  feel  that  she  had 
no  more  surprises  for  him ;  the  unexpected 
in  her  behavior  was  the  only  thing  to  ex 
pect.  She  showed  no  displeasure  at  her 
tete-a-tete  with  Giovanelli  being  interrupted ; 
she  could  chatter  as  freshly  and  freely  with 
two  gentlemen  as  with  one ;  there  was  al 
ways,  in  her  conversation,  the  same  odd 
mixture  of  audacity  and  puerility.  Winter- 
bourne  remarked  to  himself  that  if  she  was 
seriously  interested  in  Giovanelli,  it  was  very 
singular  that  she  should  not  take  more  trou 
ble  to  preserve  the  sanctity  of  their  inter 
views;  and  he  liked  her  the  more  for  her 
innocent-looking  indifference  and  her  ap 
parently  inexhaustible  good -humor,  He 


94  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

could  hardly  have  said  why,  but  she  seemed 
to  him  a  girl  who  would  never  be  jealous. 
At  the  risk  of  exciting  a  somewhat  derisive 
smile  ou  the  reader's  part,  I  may  affirm  that 
with  regard  to  the  wromen  who  had  hitherto 
interested  him,  it  very  often  seemed  to  Wiu- 
terbourne  among  the  possibilities  that,  given 
certain  contingencies,  he  should  be  afraid— 
literally  afraid — of  these  ladies ;  he  had  a 
pleasant  sense  that  he  should  never  be  afraid 
of  Daisy  Miller.  It  must  be  added  that  this 
sentiment  was  not  altogether  flattering  to 
Daisy;  it  was  part  of  his  conviction,  or 
rather  of  his  apprehension,  that  she  would 
prove  a  very  light  young  person. 

But  she  was  evidently  very  much  inter 
ested  in  Giovanelli.  She  looked  at  him 
whenever  he  spoke ;  she  was  perpetually 
telling  him  to  do  this  and  to  do  that;  she 
was  constantly  "  chaffing"  and  abusing  him. 
She  appeared  completely  to  have  forgotten 
that  Winterbourne  had  said  anything  to 
displease  her  at  Mrs.  Walker's  little  party. 
One  Sunday  afternoon,  having  gone  to  St. 
Peter's  with  his  aunt,  Winterbourne  per 
ceived  Daisy  strolling  about  the  great 
church  iu  company  with  the  inevitable  Gio 
vanelli.  Presently  he  pointed  out  the  young 
girl  and  her  cavalier  to  Mrs.  Costello.  This 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  95 

lady  looked  at  them  a  moment  through  her 
eye-glass,  and  then  she  said : 

"  That's  what  makes  you  so  pensive  in 
these  days,  eh  ?" 

"  I  had  not  the  least  idea  I  was  pensive," 
said  the  young  man. 

"You  are  very  much  preoccupied;  you 
are  thinking  of  something." 

"And  what  is  it,"  he  asked,  "that  you  ac 
cuse  me  of  thinking  of?" 

"  Of  that  young  lady's — Miss  Baker's,  Miss 
Chandler's— what's  her  name? — Miss  Mil 
ler's  intrigue  with  that  little  barber's  block." 

"Do  you  call  it  an  intrigue,"  Winter- 
bourne  asked — "an  affair  that  goes  on  with 
such  peculiar  publicity  ?" 

"That's  their  folly,"  said  Mrs.  Costello; 
"  it's  not  their  merit." 

"No,"  rejoined  Winterbourne,  with  some 
thing  of  that  pensiveness  to  which  his  aunt 
had  alluded.  "  I  don't  believe  that  there  is 
anything  to  be  called  an  intrigue." 

"  I  have  heard  a  dozen  people  speak  of  it ; 
they  say  she  is  quite  carried  away  by  him." 

"  They  are  certainly  very  intimate,"  said 
Winterbourne. 

Mrs.  Costello  inspected  the  young  couple 
again  with  her  optical  instrument.  "He 
is  very  handsome.  One  easily  sees  how  it 


96  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

is.  She  thinks  him  the  most  elegant  man 
in  the  world,  the-finest  gentleman.  She  has 
never  seen  anything  like  him ;  he  is  better, 
even,  than  the  courier.  It  was  the  courier 
probably  who  introduced  him;  and  if  he 
succeeds  in  marrying  the  young  lady,  the 
courier  will  come  in  for  a  magnificent  com 
mission." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  thinks  of  marrying 
him,"  said  Winterbonrne,  "and  I  don't  be 
lieve  he  hopes  to  marry  her." 

"You  may  be  very  sure  she  thinks  of 
nothing.  She  goes  on  from  day  to  day,  from 
hour  to  hour,  as  they  did  in  the  Golden  Age. 
I  can  imagine  nothing  more  vulgar.  And 
at  the  same  time,"  added  Mrs.  Costello,  "  de 
pend  upon  it  that  she  may  tell  you  any  mo 
ment  that  she  is  f  engaged.' " 

"I  think  that  is  more  than  Giovanelli  ex 
pects,"  said  Winterbourne. 

"Who  is  Giovanelli?" 

"  The  little  Italian.  I  have  asked  ques 
tions  about  him,  and  learned  something. 
He  is  apparently  a  perfectly  respectable  lit 
tle  man.  I  believe  he  is,  in  a  small  way,  a 
cavaliere  avvocato.  But  he  doesn't  move  in 
what  are  called  the  first  circles.  I  think  it 
is  really  not  absolutely  impossible  that  the 
courier  introduced  him.  He  is  evidently 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  97 

immensely  charmed  Avith  Miss  Miller.  If 
she  thinks  him  the  finest  gentleman  in  the 
'world,  he,  on  his  side,  has  never  found  him 
self  in  personal  contact  with  such  splendor, 
such  opulence,  such  expeusiveness,  as  this 
young  lady's.  And  then  she  must  seem  to 
him  wonderfully  pretty  and  interesting.  I 
rather  douht  that  he  dreams  of  marrying 
her.  That  must  appear  to  him  too  impossi- 
hle  a  piece  of  luck.  He  has  nothing  but  hia 
handsome  face  to  offer,  and  there  is  a  sub 
stantial  Mr.  Miller  in  that  mysterious  land 
of  dollars.  Giovanelli  knows  that  he  hasn't 
a  title  to  offer.  If  he  were  only  a  count  or 
a  marchese!  He  must  wonder  at  his  luck,  at 
the  way  they  have  taken  him  up." 

"He  accounts  for  it  by  his  handsome 
face,  and  thinks  Miss  Miller  a  young  lady 
qui  sc  passe  ses  fantaisies  /"  said  Mrs.  Cos- 
tello. 

"  It  is  very  true,"  Winterbourne  pursued, 
"  that  Daisy  and  her  mamma  have  not  yet 
risen  to  that  stage  of — what  shall  I  call  it? 
— of  culture  at  which  the  idea  of  catching 
a  count  or  a  marchese  begins.  I  believe  that 
they  are  intellectually  incapable  of  that  con 
ception." 

"Ah!  but  the  avvocato  can't  believe  it/' 
said  Mrs.  Costello, 

7 


98  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

Of  the  observation  excited  by  Daisy's  "in 
trigue,"  Winterbourue  gathered  that  day  at 
St.  Peter's  sufficient  evidence.  A  dozen  of 
the  American  colonists  in  Rome  came  to  talk 
Avith  Mrs.  Costello,  who  sat  on  a  little  port 
able  stool  at  the  base  of  one  of  the  great  pi 
lasters.  The  vesper  service  was  going  for 
ward  in  splendid  chants  and  organ-tones  in 
the  adjacent  choir,  and  meanwhile,  between 
Mrs.  Costello  and  her  friends,  there  was  a 
great  deal  said  about  poor  little  Miss  Mil 
ler's  going  really  "  too  far."  Winterbourne 
was  not  pleased  with  what  he  heard  j  but 
when,  coming  out  upon  the  great  steps  of 
the  church,  he  saw  Daisy,  who  had  emerged 
before  him,  get  into  an  open  cab  with  her 
accomplice  and  roll  away  through  the  cyn 
ical  streets  of  Rome,  he  could  not  deny  to 
himself  that  she  wras  going  very  far  indeed. 
He  felt  very  sorry  for  her — not  exactly  flint; 
he  believed  that  she  had  completely  lost  her 
head,  but  because  it  was  painful  to  hear  so 
much  that  was  pretty,  and  undefended,  and 
natural,  assigned  to  a  vulgar  place  among 
the  categories  of  disorder.  He  made  an  at 
tempt  after  this  to  give  a  hint  to  Mrs.  Mil 
ler.  He  met  one  day  in  the  Corso  a  friend, 
a  tourist  like  himself,  who  had  just  como 
«ut  of  the  Doria  Palace,  where  he  had  been 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  99 

walking  through  the  beautiful  gallery.  His 
friend  talked  for  a  moment  about  the  su 
perb  portrait  of  Innocent  X.  by  Velasquez 
which  hangs  in  one  of  the  cabinets  of  the 
palace,  and  then  said,  "And  in  the  same 
cabinet,  by-the-way,  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
contemplating  a  picture  of  a  different  kind 
—that  pretty  American  girl  whom  you 
pointed  out  to  me  last  week."  In  answer 
to  Winterbourne's  inquiries,  his  friend  nar 
rated  that  the  pretty  American  girl — pret 
tier  than  ever — was  seated  with  a  compan 
ion  in  the  secluded  nook  in  which  the  great 
papal  portrait  was  enshrined. 

"  Who  was  her  companion  V  asked  Win- 
terbourne. 

"A  little  Italian  with  a  bouquet  in  his 
button-hole.  The  girl  is  delightfully  pret 
ty,  but  I  thought  I  understood  from  you  the 
other  day  that  she  was  a  young  lady  da 
meilleur  monde." 

"  So  she  is !"  answered  Winterbourne ; 
and  having  assured  himself  that  his  inform 
ant  had  seen  Daisy  and  her  companion  but 
live  minutes  before,  he  jumped  into  a  cab 
and  went  to  call  on  Mrs.  Miller.  She  was 
at  home ;  but  she  apologized  to  him  for  re 
ceiving  him  in  Daisy's  absence.  ' 

"She's  gone  out  somewhere  with  Mr. Gio- 


100          DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

vauelli,"  said  Mrs.  Miller.  "  She's  alwaya 
going  round  with  Mr.  Giovanelli." 

"  I  have  noticed  that  they  are  very  inti 
mate,"  Winterbourne  observed. 

"  Oh,  it  seems  as  if  they  couldn't  livo 
without  each  other!"  said  Mrs.  Miller. 
"  Well,  he's  a  real  gentleman,  anyhow.  I 
keep  telling  Daisy  she's  engaged!" 

"And  what  does  Daisy  say  f 

"  Oh,  she  says  she  isn't  engaged.  But  she 
might  as  well  be!"  this  impartial  parent  re 
sumed  ;  "she  goes  ou  as  if  she  was.  But 
I've  made  Mr.  Giovanelli  promise  to  tell  me, 
if  she  doesn't.  f  should  want  to  write  to 
Mr.  Miller  about  it — shouldn't  you  ?" 

Winterbourne  replied  that  he  certainly 
should ;  and  the  state  of  mind  of  Daisy's 
mamma  struck  him  as  so  unprecedented  in 
the  annals  of  parental  vigilance  that  he 
gave  up  as  utterly  irrelevant  the  attempt 
to  place  her  upon  her  guard. 

After  this  Daisy  was  never  at  home,  and 
Winterbourne  ceased  to  meet  her  at  the 
houses  of  their  common  acquaintance,  be 
cause,  as  he  perceived,  these  shrewd  people 
had  quite  made  up  their  minds  that  she 
was  going  too  far.  They  ceased  to  invite 
her;  and  they  intimated  that  they  desired 
to  express  to  observant  Europeans  the  great 


DAISY  MJL/,ES:    AvSlVDY.  ID  I* 

truth  that,  though  Miss  Daisy  Miller  was  a 
young  American  lady,  her  behavior  was  not 
representative — was  regarded  by  her  com 
patriots  as  abnormal.  Winterbourne  won 
dered  how  she,  felt  about  all  the  cold  shoul 
ders  that  Avere  turned  toward  her,  and  some 
times  it  annoyed  him  to  suspect  that  she 
did  not  feel  at  all.  He  said  to  himself  that 
she  was  too  light  and  childish,  too  unculti 
vated  and  unreasoning,  too  provincial,  to 
have  reflected  upon  her  ostracism,  or  even 
to  have  perceived  it.  Then  at  other  mo 
ments  he  believed  that  she  carried  about  in 
her  elegant  and  irresponsible  little  organ 
ism  a  defiant,  passionate,  perfectly  observ 
ant  consciousness  of  the  impression  she  pro 
duced.  He  asked  himself  whether  Daisy's 
defiance  came  from  the  consciousness  of  in 
nocence,  or  from  her  being,  essentially,  a 
young  person  of  the  reckless  class.  It  must 
be  admitted  that  holding  one's  self  to  a  be 
lief  in  Daisy's  " innocence"  came  to  seem  to 
Winterbourne  more  and  more  a  matter  of 
fine-spun  gallantry.  As  I  have  already  had 
occasion  to  relate,  he  was  angry  at  finding 
himself  reduced  to  chopping  logic  about  this 
young  lady ;  he  was  vexed  at  his  want  of 
instinctive  certitude  as  to  how  far  her  ec 
centricities  were  generic,  national,  and  how 


lOiJ  BAISl"   MILLAR*     \   STUDY. 

far  they  were  personal.  From  either  view 
of  them  lie  had  somehow  missed  her,  and 
now  it  was  too  late.  She  was  "carried 
away"  by  Mr.  Giovanelli. 

A  few  days  after  his  brief  interview  with 
her  mother,  he  encountered  her  in  that  beau 
tiful  abode  of  flowering  desolation  known 
as  the  Palace  of  the  Caesars.  The  early  Ko- 
man  spring  had  filled  the  air  with  bloom 
and  perfume,  and  the  rugged  surface  of  the 
Palatine  was  muffled  with  tender  verdure. 
Daisy  was  strolling  along  the  top  of  one  of 
those  great  mounds  of  ruin  that  are  em 
banked  with  mossy  marble  and  paved  with 
monumental  inscriptions.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  Rome  had  never  been  so  lovely  as  just 
then.  He  stood  looking  off  at  the  enchant 
ing  harmony  of  line  and  color  that  remotely 
encircles  the  city,  inhaling  the  softly  humid 
odors,  and  feeling  the  freshness  of  the  year 
and  the  antiquity  of  the  place  reaffirm  them 
selves  in  mysterious  interfusion.  It  seemed 
to  him  also  that  Daisy  had  never  looked  so 
pretty  ;  but  this  had  been  an  observation 
of  his  whenever  he  met  her.  Giovanelli 
was  at  her  side,  and  Giovanelli,  too,  wore  an 
aspect  of  even  unwonted  brilliancy. 

"Well, "said  Daisy,  "I  should  think  you 
would  be  lonesome!" 


DAISY  MILLER:    A   STUDY.  103 

"  Lonesome  ?"  asked  Wiuterbourne. 

"You  are  always  going  round  by  your 
self.  Can't  you  get  any  one  to  walk  with 
you  I" 

"I  am  not  so  fortunate,"  said  Winter- 
bourne,  "as  your  companion." 

Giovanelli,  from  the  first,  had  treated 
Winterbourne  with  distinguished  politeness. 
He  listened  with  a  deferential  air  to  his 
remarks;  he  laughed  punctiliously  at  his 
pleasantries  ;  he  seemed  disposed  to  testify 
to  his  belief  that  Winterbourne  was  a  supe 
rior  young  man.  He  carried  himself  in  no 
degree  like  a  jealous  wooer  ;  he  had  obvious 
ly  a  great  deal  of  tact ;  he  had  no  objection 
to  your  expecting  a  little  humility  of  him. 
It  even  seemed  to  Winterbourne  at  times 
that  Giovanelli  would  find  a  certain  mental 
relief  in  being  able  to  have  a  private  under 
standing  with  him — to  say  to  him,  as  an  in 
telligent  man,  that,  bless  you,  lie  knew  how 
extraordinary  was  this  young  lady,  and  didn't 
flatter  himself  with  delusive  —  or  at  least 
too  delusive — hopes  of  matrimony  and  dol 
lars.  On  this  occasion  he  strolled  away  from 
his  companion  to  pluck  a  sprig  of  almond- 
blossom,  which  he  carefully  arranged  in  his 
button-hole. 

"  I  know  why  you  say  that,"  said  Daisy, 


104  DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

watching  Giovanelli.  "  Because  you  think 
I  go  round  too  much  with  him."  And  she 
nodded  at  her  attendant. 

"Every  one  thinks  so  —  if  you  care  to 
know,"  said  Winterbourue. 

"  Of  course  I  care  to  know !"  Daisy  ex* 
claimed,  seriously.  "  But  I  don't  believe  it. 
They  are  only  pretending  to  be  shocked. 
They  don't  really  care  a  straw  what  I  do. 
Besides,  I  don't  go  round  so  much.'7 

"  I  think  you  will  find  they  do  care.  They 
will  show  it  disagreeably." 

Daisy  looked  at  him  a  moment.  "How 
disagreeably  ?" 

"  Haven't  you  noticed  anything  ?"  Win 
terbourue  asked. 

"  I  have  noticed  you.  But  I  noticed  you 
were  as  stiff  as  an  umbrella  the  first  time  I 
saw  you." 

"  You  will  find  I  am  not  so  stiff  as  several 
others,"  said  Winterbourne,  smiling. 

"  How  shall  I  find  it  ?" 

"  By  going  to  see  the  others." 

"  What  will  they  do  to  me  ?" 

"  They  will  give  you  the  cold  shoulder. 
Do  you  know  what  that  means  ?" 

Daisy  was  loo*king  at  him  intently ;  she 
began  to  color.  "  Do  you  mean  as  Mrs, 
Walker  did  the  other  niffhtf" 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  105 

"Exactly !"  said  Winterbourne. 

She  looked  away  at  Giovauelli,  who  was 
decorating  himself  with  his  almond- blos 
som.  Then  looking  back  at  Winterbourne, 
"I  shouldn't  think  you  would  let  people  be 
so  unkind !"  she  said. 

"How  can  I  help  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  should  think  you  would  say  some 
thing.'7 

"  I  do  say  something ;"  and  he  paused  a 
moment.  "  I  say  that  your  mother  tells  me 
that  she  believes  you  are  engaged." 

"  Well,  she  does,"  said  Daisy,  very  simply. 

Winterbourne  began  to  laugh.  "And 
does  Randolph  believe  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  guess  Randolph  doesn't  believe  any 
thing,"  said  Daisy.  Randolph's  scepticism 
excited  Winterbourne  to  further  hilarity, 
and  he  observed  that  Giovauelli  was  com 
ing  back  to  them.  Daisy,  observing  it  too, 
addressed  herself  again  to  her  countryman. 
"Since  you  have  mentioned  it,"  she  said, 
"I  am  engaged."  *  *  *  Winterbourne  looked 
at  her;  he  had  stopped  laughing.  '"You 
don't  believe  it !"  she  added. 

He  was  silent  a  moment ;  and  then,  "  Yes, 
I  believe  it,"  he  said. 

"  Oh  no,  you  don't !"  she  answered.  "  Well, 
then — I  am  not !" 

E* 


106          DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

The  young  girl  and  her  cicerone  were  OR 
their  way  to  the  gate  of  the  enclosure,  so 
that  Wiuterbourue,  who  had  but  lately  en 
tered,  presently  took  leave  of  them.  A  week 
afterward  he  went  to  dine  at  a  beautiful 
villa  on  the  Cselian  Hill,  and,  on  arriving, 
dismissed  his  hired  vehicle.  The  evening 
was  charming,  and  he  promised  himself  the 
satisfaction  of  walking  home  beneath  the 
Arch  of  Constantino  and  past  the  vaguely- 
lighted  monuments  of  the  Forum.  There 
was  a  waning  moon  in  the  sky,  and  her  ra 
diance  was  not  brilliant,  but  she  was  veiled 
in  a  thin  cloud-curtain  which  seemed  to  dif 
fuse  and  equalize  it.  When,  on  his  return 
from  the  villa  (it  was  eleven  o'clock),  Win- 
terbourne  approached  the  dusky  circle  of 
the  Colosseum,  it  recurred  to  him,  as  a  lov 
er  of  the  picturesque,  that  the  interior,  in 
the  pale  moonshine,  would  be  well  worth  a 
glance.  He  turned  aside  and  walked  to  one 
of  the  empty  arches,  near  which,  as  he  ob 
served,  an  open  carriage — one  of  the  little 
Roman  street-cabs  —  was  stationed.  Then 
he  passed  in,  among  the  cavernous  shadows 
of  the  great  structure,  and  emerged  upon 
the  clear  and  silent  arena.  The  place  had 
never  seemed  to  him  more  impressive.  One- 
half  of  the  gigantic  circus  was  in  deep  shade, 


DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY.  107 

the  other  was  sleeping  in  the  luminous 
dusk.  As  he  stood  there  he  began  to  mur 
mur  Byron's  famous  lines,  out  of  "  Man 
fred  ;"  but  before  he  had  finished  his  quota 
tion  he  remembered  that  if  nocturnal  med 
itations  in  the  Colosseum  are  recommend 
ed  by  the  poets,  they  are  deprecated  by  the 
doctors.  The  historic  atmosphere  was  there, 
certainly;  but  the  historic  atmosphere,  sci 
entifically  considered,  was  no  better  than  a 
villauous  miasma.  Winterbourne  walked 
to  the  middle  of  the  arena,  to  take  a  more 
general  glance,  intending  thereafter  to  make 
a  hasty  retreat.  The  great  cross  in  the  cen 
tre  was  covered  with  shadow ;  it  was  only 
as  he  drew  near  it  that  he  made  it  out  dis 
tinctly.  Then  he  saw  that  two  persons 
were  stationed  upon  the  low  steps  which 
formed  its  base.  One  of  these  was  a  woman, 
seated  ;  her  companion  was  standing  in  front 
of  her. 

Presently  the  sound  of  the  woman's  voice 
came  to  him  distinctly  in  the  warm  night 
air.  "  Well,  he  looks  at  us  as  one  of  the  old 
lions  or  tigers  may  have  looked  at  the  Chris 
tian  martyrs!"  These  were  the  words  he 
heard,  in  the  familar  accent  of  Miss  Daisy 
Miller. 

"Let  us  hope   he  is  not  very  hungry," 


108          DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

responded  the  ingenious  Giovanelli.  "  He 
-will  have  to  take  me  first;  you  will  serve 
for  dessert !" 

Winterboiirne  stopped,  with  a  sort  of  hor 
ror,  and.  it  must  be  added,  with  a  sort  of 
relief.  It  was  as  if  a  sudden  illumination 
had  been  flashed  upon  the  ambiguity  of 
Daisy's  behavior,  and  the  riddle  had  become 
easy  to  read.  She  was  a  young  lady  whom 
a  gentleman  need  no  longer  be  at  pains  to 
respect.  He  stood  there  looking  at  her — - 
looking  at  her  companion,  and  not  reflect 
ing  that  though  he  saw  them  vaguely,  he 
himself  must  have  been  more  brightly  visi 
ble.  He  felt  angry  with  himself  that  he 
had  bothered  so  much  about  the  right  way 
of  regarding  Miss  Daisy  Miller.  Then,  as 
he  was  going  to  advance  again,  he  checked 
himself;  not  from  the  fear  that  he  was  do 
ing  her  injustice,  but  from  a  sense  of  the 
danger  of  appearing  unbecomingly  exhila 
rated  by  this  sudden  revulsion  from  cautions 
criticism.  He  turned  away  toward  the  en 
trance  of  the  place,  but,  as  he  did  so,  he 
heard  Daisy  speak  again. 

"  Why,  it  was  Mr.  Winterboiirne !  He  saw 
me,  and  he  cuts  me!" 

What  a  clever  little  reprobate  she  was, 
and  how  smartly  she  played  at  injured  in- 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY.  109 

nocence!  But  lie  wouldn't  cut  her.  Win 
terbourne  came  forward  again,  and  went  to 
ward  the  great  cross.  Daisy  had  got  up; 
Giovanelli  lifted  his  hat.  Winterbourne 
had  now  begun  to  think  simply  of  the  crazi- 
ness,  from  a  sanitary  point  of  view,  of  a  deli 
cate  young  girl  lounging  away  the  evening 
in  this  nest  of  malaria.  What  if  she  were  a 
clever  little  reprobate?  that  was  no  reason 
for  her  dying  of  the  pernidosa.  "  How  long 
have  you  been  here?"  he  asked,  almost 
brutally. 

Daisy,  lovely  in  the  flattering  moonlight, 
looked  at  him  a  moment.  Then — "All  the 
evening,"  she  answered,  gently.  *  *  *  "I 
never  saw  anything  so  pretty." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Winterbourne,  "  that 
you  will  not  think  Roman  fever  very  pretty. 
This  is  the  way  people  catch  it.  I  wonder," 
he  added,  turning  to  Giovanelli,  "that  you, 
a  native  Roman,  should  countenance  such  a 
terrible  indiscretion." 

"Ah,"  said  the  hantlsome  native,  "for  my 
self  I  am  not  afraid." 

"Neither  am  I — for  you!  I  am  speaking 
for  this  young  lady." 

Giovauelli  lifted  his  well-shaped  eyebrows, 
and  showed  his  brilliant  teeth.  But  he  took 
Winterboume's  rebuke  with  docility.  •*'! 


110          DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

told  tlie  Signorina  it  was  a  grave  indiscre 
tion  ;  but  when  was  the  Signoriua  ever 
prudent?" 

"  I  never  was  sick,  and  I  don't  mean  to 
be !"  the  Signorina  declared.  "  I  don't  look 
like  much,  but  I'm  healthy  !  I  was  bound  to 
see  the  Colosseum  by  moonlight;  I  shouldn't 
have  wanted  to  go  home  without  that;  and 
we  have  had  the  most  beautiful  time,  haven't 
we,  Mr.  Giovanelli  ?  If  there  has  been  any 
danger,  Eugenic  can  give  me  some  pills. 
He  has  got  some  splendid  pills." 

"  I  should  advise  you,"  said  Winterbourne, 
"to  drive  home  as  fast  as  possible  and  take 
one!" 

"What  you  say  is  very  wise,"  Giovanelli 
rejoined.  "I  will  go  and  make  sure  the 
carriage  is  at  hand."  And  he  went  forward 
rapidly. 

Daisy  followed  with  Winterbourne.  He 
kept  looking  at  her;  she  seemed  not  in  the 
least  embarrassed.  Winterbourne  said  noth 
ing;  Daisy  chattered  'about  the  beauty  of 
the  place.  "Well,  I  have  seen  the  Colosseum 
by  moonlight!"  she  exclaimed.  "  That's  one 
good  thing."  Then,  noticing  Winterbourne's 
silence,  she  asked  him  why  he  didn't  speak. 
He  made  no  answer ;  he  only  began  to  laugh. 
They  passed  under  one  of  the  dark  arch- 


DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY.  Ill 

ways;  Giovanelli.  was  in  front  with  the,  car 
riage.  Here  Daisy  stopped  a  moment,  look 
ing  at  the  young  American.  ''Did  you  be 
lieve  I  was  engaged,  the  other  day?"  she 
asked. 

"It  doesn't  matter  what  I  believed  the 
other  day/'  said  Winterbourne,  still  laugh 
ing. 

"Well,  what  do  you  believe  now?" 

"  I  believe  that  it  makes  very  little  differ 
ence  whether  you  are  engaged  or  not!" 

He  felt  the  young  girl's  pretty  eyes  fixed 
upon  him  through  the  thick  gloom  of  the 
archway;  she  was  apparently  going  to  an 
swer.  But  GiovanelU  hurried  her  forward. 
"Quick!  quick!"  he  said  ;  "if  we  get  in  by 
midnight  we  are  quite  safe." 

Daisy  took  her  seat  in  the  carriage,  and 
the  fortunate  Italian  placed  himself  beside 
her.  "Don't  forget  Eugenie's  pills!"  said 
Winterbourne,  as  he  lifted  his  hat. 

"I  don't  care,"  said  Daisy,  in  a  little 
strange  tone,  "  whether  I  have  Roman  fever 
or  not!"  Upon  this  the  cab-driver  cracked 
his  whip,  and  they  rolled  away  over  the 
desultory  patches  of  the  antique  pavement. 

Winterbourne,  to  do  him  justice,  as  it 
were,  mentioned  to  no  one  that  he  had  en 
countered  Miss  Miller,  at  midnight,  in  the 


112          DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

Colosseum  with  a  gentleman  ;  but  neverthe 
less,  a  couple  of  clays  later,  the  fact  of  her 
having  been  there  under  these  circumstances 
was  known  to  every  member  of  the  little 
American  circle,  and  commented  according 
ly.  Wiuterbourne  reflected  that  they  had 
of  course  known  it  at  the  hotel,  and  that, 
after  Daisy's  return,  there  had  been  an  ex 
change  of  remarks  between  the  porter  and 
the  cab-driver.  But  the  young  man  was 
conscious,  at  the  same  moment,  that  it  had 
ceased  to  be  a  matter  of  serious  regret  to 
him  that  the  little  American  flirt  should  be 
" talked  about"  by  low-minded  menials. 
These  people,  a  day  or  two  later,  had  seri 
ous  information  to  give :  the  little  Ameri 
can  flirt  was  alarmingly  ill.  Wiuterbourne, 
when  the  minor  came  to  him,  immediately 
went  to  the  hotel  for  more  news.  He  found 
that  two  or  three  charitable  friends  had 
preceded  him,  and  that  they  were  being  en 
tertained  in  Mrs.  Miller's  salon  by  Randolph. 
"It's  going  round  at  night,"  said  Ran 
dolph — "  that's  what  made  her  sick.  She's 
always  going  round  at  night.  I  shouldn't 
think  she'd  want  to,  it's  so  plaguy  dark. 
You  can't  see  anything  here  at  night,  except 
when  there's  a  moon.  In  America  there's 
always  a  moon  !"  Mrs.  Miller  was  invisible ; 


DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY.  113 

she  was  now,  at  least,  giving  her  daughter 
the  advantage  of  her  society.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  Daisy  was  dangerously  ill. 

Winterbourne  went  often  to  ask  for  news 
of  her,  and  once  he  saw  Mrs.  Miller,  who, 
though  deeply  alarmed,  was,  rather  to  his 
surprise,  perfectly  composed,  and,  as  it  ap 
peared,  a  most  efficient  and  judicious  nurse. 
She  talked  a  good  deal  about  Dr.  Davis,  but 
Winterbourne  paid  her  the  compliment  of 
saying  to  himself  that  she  was  not,  after  all, 
such  a  monstrous  goose.  "  Daisy  spoke  of 
you  the  other  day,"  she  said  to  him.  "  Half 
the  time  she  doesn't  know  what  she's  say 
ing,  but  that  time  I  think  she  did.  She 
gave  me  a  message,  she  told  me  to  tell  you. 
She  told  me  to  tell  you  that  she  never  was 
engaged  to  that  handsome  Italian.  I  am 
sure  I  am  very  glad ;  Mr.  Giovanelli  hasn't 
been  near  us  since  she  was  taken  ill.  I 
thought  he  was  so  much  of  a  gentleman  ; 
but  I  don't  call  that  very  polite !  A  lady 
told  me  that  he  was  afraid  I  was  angry 
with  him  for  taking  Daisy  round  at  night. 
Well,  so  I  am  ;  but  I  suppose  he  knows  I'm 
a  lady.  I  would  scorn  to  scold  him.  Any 
way,  she  says  she's  not  engaged.  I  don't 
know  why  she  wanted  you  to  know  ;  but 
she  said  to  me  three  times,  '  Mind  you  tell 
8 


114  DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY. 

Mr.  Winterbourue.'  And  then  slie  told  me 
to  ask  if  yon  remembered  the  time  you  went 
to  that  castle  in  Switzerland.  But  I  said  I 
wouldn't  give  any  such  messages  as  that. 
Only,  if  she  is  not  engaged,  I'm  sure  I'm  glad 
to  know  it." 

But,  as  Winterbourne  had  said,  it  matter 
ed  very  little.  A  week  after  this  the  poor 
girl  died;  it  had  been  a  terrible  case  of  the 
fever.  Daisy's  grave  was  in  the  little  Prot 
estant  cemetery,  in  an  angle  of  the  wall  of 
imperial  Rome,  beneath  the  cypresses  and 
the  thick  spring -flowers.  Winterbourne 
stood  there  beside  it,  with  a  number  of 
other  mourners  ;  a  number  larger  than  the 
scandal  excited  by  the  young  lady's  career 
would  have  led  you  to  expect.  Near  him 
stood  Giovanelli,  who  came  nearer  still  be 
fore  Winterbourne  turned  away.  Giova 
nelli  was  very  pale:  on  this  occasion  he 
had  no  flower  in  his  button-hole ;  he  seem 
ed  to  wish  to  say  something.  At  lasjb  he 
said,  "  She  was  the  most  beautiful  young 
lady  I  ever  saw,  and  the  most  amiable ;" 
and  then  he  added  in  a  moment,  "  and  she 
was  the  most  innocent." 

Winterbourne  looked  at  him.  and  present 
ly  repeated  his  words,  "And  the  most  inno 
cent  ?" 


DAISY  MILLER:   A  STUDY.          115 

"The  most  innocent!" 

Winterbourne  felt  sore  and  angry.  "  Why 
the  devil/'  he  asked,  "  did  you  take  her  to 
that  fatal  place  ?" 

Mr.  Giovanelli's  urbanity  was  apparently 
imperturbable.  He  looked  on  the  ground 
a  moment,  and  then  he  said,  "  For  myself  I 
had  no  fear;  and  she  wanted  to  go." 

"  That  was  no  reason !"  Winterbourne  de 
clared. 

The  subtle  Roman  again  dropped  his  eyes. 
."If  she  had  lived,  I  should  have  got  noth 
ing.  She  would  never  have  married  ine,  I 
am  sure." 

"  She  would  never  have  married  you  ?" 

"  For  a  moment  I  hoped  so.  But  no.  I 
am  sure." 

Wiuterbourne  listened  to  him  :  he  stood 
staring  at  the  raw  protuberance  among  the 
April  daisies.  When  he  turned  away  again, 
Mr.  Giovauelli,  with  his  light,  slow  step,  had 
retired. 

Winterbourne  almost  immediately  left 
Rome;  but  the  following  summer  he  again 
met  his  aunt,  Mrs.  Costello,  at  Vevay.  Mrs. 
Costello  was  fond  of  Vevay.  In  the  inter 
val  Winterbourne  had  often  thought  of  Dai 
sy  Miller  and  her  mystifying  manners.  One 
day  he  spoke  of  her  to  his  aunt — said  it  was 


116          DAISY  MILLER:  A  STUDY. 

on  his  conscience  that  lie  had  done  her  in 
justice. 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Cos- 
tello.  "  Plow  did  your  injustice  affect  her  ?" 

"  She  sent  me  a  message  before  her  death 
which  I  didn't  understand  at  the  time ;  but 
I  have  understood  it  since.  She  would  have 
appreciated  one's  esteem." 

"Is  that  a  modest  way,"  asked  Mrs.  Cos- 
tell  o,  "of  saying  that  she  would  have  recip 
rocated  one's  affection  ?" 

Winterbourne  offered  no  answer  to  this 
question  ;  but  he  presently  said,  "  You  were 
right  in  that  remark  that  you  made  last 
summer.  I  was  booked  to  make  a  mistake. 
I  have  lived  too  long  in  foreign  parts." 

Nevertheless,  he  went  back  to  live  at  Ge 
neva,  whence  there  continue  to  come  the 
most  contradictory  accounts  of  his  motives 
of  sojourn  :  a  report  that  he  is  "  studying" 
hard — an  intimation  that  he  is  much  inter 
ested  in  a  very  clever  foreign  lady. 


THE  END. 


14  DAY  USE 

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